


Dragons

by kelsiroo



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Gen, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-13
Updated: 2013-11-06
Packaged: 2017-12-29 07:03:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 21,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1002379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kelsiroo/pseuds/kelsiroo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He should have been dead when he left Hogwarts. Lost and free for the first time in his life, Draco sets off to get rid of his soul and build a new existence. She should have been dead when they found her. Broken and alone, Hermione learns that love can be a force too powerful to evade.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Out Here On Your Own

**Chapter 1- Out Here on Your Own**

_He came up to her after a potions lesson. She had to take off her robe because of the Armortencia brew's spiraling steam, so she was wearing a camisole and her favorite jeans. "Granger," he greeted._

" _Malfoy. What made you feel like slithering over here?"_

" _Nice, Granger. Don't think I take any particular pleasure in spending time with a mudblood like yourself," Malfoy answered._

" _Ah, well do us both a favor and don't displeasure yourself any longer." Hermione turned from him and started to gather her things._

" _I need help," Malfoy whispered into her ear. Granger tried to ignore the shivers that crawled down her back at his closeness._

_Hermione scoffed at his suggestion. "That's clear, but I don't think it's anything I can help with." She started to walk towards the door when Malfoy grabbed her arm._

" _I'm not going to pass potions, Granger. I need your help. I need you to tutor me," Malfoy turned her to look into her eyes. "You are the top of our class,"_

_Hermione shook her head and turned away again. "Harry is performing much better than I am this year. Ask him."_

" _You know I can't do that, Hermione. It's bad enough I have to ask the mudblood of the Golden Trio." Draco responded._

_Hermione laughed sadistically. "Oh, do stop flattering me, Malfoy. I hardly know how to resist you when you talk like that."_

" _Granger, come on. I'll pay you," Malfoy begged._

" _Fine. Meet me tomorrow after dinner. I'll have Professor Slughorn unlock the potions lab," Hermione answered._

_Draco flinched. "Tomorrow is no good, Granger. I have a date with Pansy. If I cancel on her again I don't think…" Draco was stopped short by the exasperated look on Hermione's face. "Ok. Tomorrow after dinner."_

" _Good." Hermione spun on her heel and left the room._

Hermione woke up from her memory to unfamiliar surroundings. " _Where are you? Hermione, think! Where are you?"_ Lost, that's where Hermione was. She had escaped the remains of Hogwarts only because of her superior knowledge of the secret passageways, and for the first time, she was truly grateful for the Marauder's Map Harry and Ron used to carry around. Harry and Ron! She couldn't believe her dear friends were gone. She never saw Harry again after he defeated Voldemort. No doubt, he was off trying to regain some semblance of a normal life with Ginny. Being a half-blood, he probably had no idea that muggle-borns were still being persecuted. He had no idea that she and Ron had started a protection program to keep muggle-borns away from the snatchers. He had no idea that Ron had… of course he couldn't know. He would have helped; he would have stopped it.

Hermione took a second to observe her surroundings. She was against a curb on a cobblestone road, in a far from quaint part of town. She had apparated to London, the first place that had come to mind, but she still couldn't shake the feeling of danger. She reached for her wand, hoping to feel secure again, but gasped when she realized it was snapped in two. She ached for her bag, with its undetectable extension charm, knowing that she had many extra wands hidden deep inside. She got up from the curb, and began taking painful steps down the cobblestone path. Her muscles were weak from fighting against the shackles she had spent so many days in, and she had more untreated cuts and bruises on her body than she could count.

As she walked, she found her thoughts drifting not to her husband, but back again to Malfoy.

" _Now, you're doing quite well. See, you just need to apply yourself, Malfoy." Hermione was pleased with his efforts, and he had managed to brew the Draught of Living Death perfectly._

_Malfoy gave her a slight smile. Well, as much of a smile as she'd seen him give before. "It was easier when Snape was potions master. I felt like I had a reason to impress the professor," Malfoy realized he was giving Granger much more information than he'd wanted to. "Not that a mudblood like you would understand. You try to impress every professor just to prove you deserve magic. Which you don't," he finished._

_Hermione shook her head at him. "Why do you do that?"_

" _Why do I do what?"_

" _Ruin a normal conversation with your foul mouth. You haven't bothered me for quite some time, you know," Hermione looked to his eyes, trying to see if he was comprehending what she was saying. "I mean it. It doesn't even phase me when you call me that anymore," Malfoy wasn't meeting her eyes, so she continued. "I don't think you believe it, either. Those things you say. It's just a way for you to look tough, to keep up your pureblood routine."_

" _You don't know the first thing about my 'pureblood routine,' Granger. Quit trying to psycho-analyze me. I asked you to come here because I need help in Potions, not because I'm having an identity crisis," Malfoy easily deflected her attempts to understand him._

" _Have it your way, then. Goodnight, Malfoy." Hermione gathered her things and moved to leave the room._

"Girly, come here." Hermione searched for the source of the voice. A middle-aged woman stood in a doorway. She had a wand in her hand as she motioned for Hermione to come inside.

"W-who are you?" Hermione shakily asked.

"I am Madame Violetta," the woman started. Hermione realized she wasn't in any condition to be refusing any offers of kindness, so she took a wary step inside the building. "What are you doing out here on your own?"

"My husband and I were taken from our home three weeks ago. I just managed to escape. He was not… he is not…" Hermione couldn't bring herself to admit it. It was like the admission made it too real.

Madame Violetta sighed. "Ah, dearie, my apologies. Come inside and we'll get you fixed up." Hermione followed the woman inside, and was so relieved when she took her to a private suite with a toilet, bath, and large bed. Hermione drew a bath, and couldn't wait to be rid of the stench of death and decay. As she rinsed her sore limbs, she thought back to the events of the past three weeks. She and Ron had just sat down to dinner when suddenly she heard the door blown open. The wizard that performed the "bombarda maxima" spell had to be extremely powerful to get past the extensive protection charms she had placed on their home, so Hermione immediately grabbed her wand and attempted to shield herself and Ron. It was not enough though, and before she knew it, she had woken up in what was left of the Chamber of Secrets. She couldn't see Ron, but she could hear his yells from across the chamber…

A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. "Girly? Are you still in there?"

"Yes, Madame Violetta. I… I will be out shortly," Hermione answered. She removed herself from the bath, and toweled off with one of the luxurious bath towels she found in the cupboard. She draped herself in the robe Madame Violetta had left her, and exited the bathroom. She found Madame Violetta had turned down the bed for her, and left a bottle of Dreamless Sleep potion. Hermione measured the proper amount, and fell instantly into the first proper sleep she'd had in ages.

When Hermione woke up, she found her discarded clothing replaced by a black dress that was much too short for her liking. She reluctantly put the dress on, and checked the mirror to see her face. She still had the face of a girl, albeit a girl who had suffered far too much for someone so young. She checked her eyes for any signs of tears, but she realized she had left all of her tears deep inside that catacomb. She stepped out of the room with wet hair and an unmade face, but she was past caring at this point.

"Good morning, mademoiselle," Madame Violetta greeted, "I trust you slept well?"

"Yes, quite well," Hermione answered. "I have never been so happy to see a potion. Thank you for your kindness. I still don't understand why you have been so kind to a stranger."

Madame Violetta began to walk down the hallway. "Follow me, mademoiselle… pardon me, but I do not know your name,"

"It's Jean. Jean Rosier," Hermione lied. She realized that her real name was far too recognizable, so she had given her middle name. She didn't know why she had chosen Rosier…

_It was the night of Slughorn's Christmas party, and Hermione had chosen to go with Cormac. As she stepped out to visit the loo, she heard a whisper from a corner._

" _Granger!" Hermione followed the voice to find Malfoy lurking in the corner. She had given him quite a few more private Potions lessons, and his marks had improved significantly. Hermione was actually surprised that he hadn't been invited to the Slug Club. She was even more surprised that he hadn't asked to stop the lessons after his marks had improved._

" _What are you doing here, Malfoy?" She couldn't deny that she was happy to see him. Their private lessons had become almost pleasant, though she couldn't quite understand why. He had complimented her on her skills as a witch on more than one occasion, though he usually followed with an insult on her blood status. She even saw him laugh once, and she realized that he wasn't as bad as he tried to pretend._

" _I forgot to pay you for our lessons," Malfoy stated plainly._

_Hermione shook her head. "And it couldn't wait until you weren't crashing a party?"_

" _Aw, am I interrupting your time with Cormac? I didn't think you could find anyone worse than Weasel-bee…"_

" _Stop it, Malfoy! Don't talk about my friends like that," Hermione interjected._

" _Ok, ok. Keep your voice down!" Malfoy looked around to see if anyone had heard her outburst. "I have something for you," Malfoy held out a box about the size of a piece of parchment. Hermione eyed Malfoy cautiously before she decided to take the box. "Come on then, open it up!" Hermione glared at Malfoy, trying to dissect his intentions. "It's not cursed. Open it, Granger!" Malfoy looked on hopefully while Hermione took the ribbon of the box._

_She opened the box and found a dainty diamond pendant on a small silver chain. It was a round diamond wreathed in diamonds set in a cushion shape. Hermione had never seen a more beautiful piece of jewelry. "Malfoy, what… why did you give this to me?"_

" _Do you like it?" Malfoy asked._

" _It's beautiful. But you really shouldn't have," Hermione said._

_Malfoy beamed at his classmate. "Can I put it on?" Hermione nodded in agreement, and turned around while lifting her hair. "It was my grandmother's. Her name was Druella Rosier." Malfoy whispered into Hermione's ear, and she felt the inexplicable chill run down her spine again at his closeness. Malfoy finished clasping the necklace and turned Hermione around to look at her. "There. Now your look is complete. You look really… nice tonight, Granger."_

" _Thank you, Malfoy. And thank you for this, it's lovely, really," Hermione was taken aback by his kindness._

_Malfoy looked around again, trying to make sure no one had overheard the exchange. "Well, don't let it get to your Mudblood head. You gave me lessons, now we're even," Malfoy started to walk away._

_Hermione sighed, used to his deflection whenever he did or said something kind. "Alright, Malfoy. You'd better get out of here before someone catches you."_

_Hermione turned on her heel and fumbled with the diamond pendant as she walked away. Moments later, Filch had dragged Malfoy through the party, and Hermione offered him an apologetic smile that was met with a glare from Malfoy._

"Mademoiselle Rosier?" Hermione realized she had been lost in thought again when Madame Violetta attempted to speak with her.

Hermione shook her head. "My apologies, Madame Violetta. What did you say?"

"I said, we need to work out how you will be paying for your stay here. Does that scar on your arm ring true? Are you muggle-born?" Madame Violetta asked.

Hermione realized that without her bag, she had no way to pay this woman. "Yes, yes I am, but unfortunately I don't have my purse with me. If we could stop by Gringotts I would be more than happy to make a withdrawl…"

Hermione was cut off by Madame Violetta, "Damn. They pay less for mudbloods. Well, I assume if we can get you looking better, you might be able to turn a profit," Madame Violetta continued to speak, despite Hermione's confused scowl. "You really do need to learn to make yourself look more presentable. One should never leave her room without makeup. How would I advertise you like this?"

"Pardon me, but what kind of business do you run here?" Hermione didn't like where this conversation was going in the slightest.

Madame Violetta laughed. "It's a brothel, Mademoiselle Rosier. How else did you think a mudblood like yourself would get taken in? You have a pretty face, but once they know of your blood status…" Hermione immediately stood up from her chair and moved towards the door. She made it into the hallway before Madame Violetta followed. "And just where do you think you're going? There is nowhere safe for you anymore," Madame Violetta spoke evenly to Hermione.

"I will not become a whore. I would rather die! And you should be reported! This kind of thing is not legal in London!" Hermione continued toward the front door, wishing she had her old clothes instead of this too-short dress.

As she stepped out of the front door, she stepped sideways to avoid a curse Madame Violetta shot towards her, and took off into a run. She was not so lucky with Madame Violetta's second curse, and heard "Confundo!" just before a curse hit her squarely in the back. Hermione fell to the ground, and was flipped onto her back as Madame Violetta straddled her. She pinned Hermione's arms with her knees, and drew a knife from her pocket. "I obviously can't have you around when you'll fight me the whole way. But, I can't have a competitor picking you up, that just won't do." Hermione gasped as she felt Madame Violetta's knife enter the skin on her left cheek. She could feel it dragged down, causing blood to run freely down her chin as Hermione struggled to fight the much larger woman off.

“There, see if you can make any money now, you little bitch!”

Hermione spat in the woman's face, not allowing the tears brimming in her eyes to fall. The next thing she knew, Madame Violetta had hit her with a "stupefy" curse, and Hermione's world went black.


	2. Who Was This Man?

Rahul Ganesh woke early and gave his wife, Aditi, a quick kiss on the forehead. "Good morning, my dear. Just another day in paradise," he spoke, smiling as her eyes fluttered open.

"Is that what we're calling this now, paradise?" His wife laughed sleepily.

Rahul kissed her again. "It's better than how it was. I am happy we don't have to hide our blood status here. Mister Lugh may be mysterious, but he is not cruel. We have honest work here," Rahul reasoned.

"I know, love. I am happy here, too," Aditi answered.

Rahul dressed for the day in his usual business attire, and gave Aditi one last kiss before venturing out into the manor. It was a grand house with many rooms. He and his wife lived in the western wing. A few of the other housemaids lived in the servant's quarters, which were still nicely appointed. Mister Lugh's eastern wing was very grand. It had four well-furnished bedrooms with giant beds, though Mister Lugh's was by far the largest. It had a sitting suite as well as the bedroom, all decorated in dark emerald and gray. Though the colors were not the warmest, it definitely suggested a sense of regality. He thought they were from a division in the school he went to, though since he and Aditi were from India, they weren't too familiar with the wizarding traditions in London.

Rahul knocked on his boss's door. "Mister Lugh?" Rahul's boss was a mysterious man who kept mostly to himself. It seemed he had definitely come from a wealthy upbringing, though he only spoke to his mother on occasion. There was never any mention of his father, nor his aunts or uncles. He wasn't necessarily a nice man, though he had never done anything to harm or frighten Rahul, Aditi, or any of the other members of the household. Oddly, he seemed to have a desire to help muggle-born witches and wizards, as he started to take them in as soon as the snatchers began their kidnappings. He found Rahul and Aditi hiding in the barn on his newly purchased land, and was very quick to give them shelter and jobs.

Rahul was also fairly certain that his employer did not have a lot of friends, though he didn't quite understand why. He had a handsome enough face, even when it was marred by his typical scowl. The only people who came to the house were his hired women, who he kept in townhouses in the city, and called upon on occasion. These women were usually beautiful and of poor circumstance, though they were also vain, increasingly so when they were in Mister Lugh's favor. Fortunately, though many believed they would eventually become Missus Lugh, he never called on any woman consistently for more than a week.

Rahul knocked on the door again, as Mister Lugh hadn't answered. On his third try, he finally decided just to enter the room. Pulling his set of keys from his pocket, he swiftly opened the door, and called out, "Mister Lugh, pardon me, but I knocked and couldn't hear your answer…"

"What the hell are you doing in here?" Mister Lugh boomed. Rahul finally saw his employer, and had never seen him in such a state. His typically groomed blonde hair was in a disheveled mess around his face, and his business attire was wrinkled and sloppy. He had a glass of brandy in one hand, and was slumped over his knees with his head in his other.

"Mister Lugh, my apologies, but when I didn't hear from you after a few knocks…"

Rahul was cut off again. "Do you not understand the social courtesy that follows a knock?" Rahul bowed his head and moved to exit the room. Clearly, Mister Lugh was not in the mood for company, business or otherwise. "Rahul, since you insisted on entering, please make yourself useful. Find me a woman today."

Rahul nodded. "Okay. Which of them would you like me to…"

"No. A new one. I am sick of my current options. And please return with more brandy. I don't know why I can't find any liquor in the whole damn house," Mister Lugh barked.

"Yes, of course Mister Lugh. I will leave with Anthony quickly," Rahul moved to leave the room again.

"Take this fucking paper with you, too. I don't want to read it again." Rahul walked to his boss and took the section of the Daily Prophet in question. As he walked out of the door, he read the headline.

_RONALD AND HERMIONE WEASLEY KIDNAPPED AND MURDERED_

* * *

" _Granger! Granger, wake up!" Hermione woke up to a tapping on the window at the Burrow. She saw that Ginny hadn't roused from her sleep yet, so she got up and wrapped a robe around her slinky nightgown. She looked out of the window and saw Malfoy outside. It was a day away from Bill and Fleur's wedding, and she couldn't imagine what he thought he was doing. She climbed out of the window and joined him on the tin roof._

" _Malfoy, what the hell do you think you're doing here?" Hermione was obviously disgusted by his presence._

" _This isn't how you acted the last time you saw me, Granger. As I recall, you spent the night with me in the Room of Requirement. I haven't stopped thinking about that, Granger. I don't think I've ever slept that well," Malfoy answered, combing one of Hermione's unruly tresses behind her ear._

_Hermione cringed as he touched her. "A lot has changed since then, Malfoy. Or did you forget? You let all of those Death Eaters into Hogwarts! Dumbledore is dead because of you!" Hermione was enraged that he even dared to be here. "Go, Malfoy. You're not who I thought you were."_

" _I never pretended to be anyone else, Granger!" Malfoy took a step towards her as she took a step back._

" _I could see the good in you, Malfoy. It was in there all along. You're not who you pretend to be. This," she grabbed his sleeve and pulled it up to reveal his dark mark, "this does not define you, Malfoy. There is good in you. You just have to stop fighting it!" Hermione had tears in her eyes as she tried to reason with him._

_Draco pulled his sleeve back down, feeling uncomfortable that Hermione could see the mark. "Hermione, I'm not here to argue with you about who or what I am. I'm here to warn you." Hermione smiled at him. "Why are you smiling?" Draco asked._

" _You slipped," Hermione started. She continued on after Draco gave her a bewildered look, "You used my first name."_

_Malfoy scoffed at her observation. "I'll make sure that doesn't happen again, Granger."_

" _No, I liked it. It sounded… nice," Hermione responded._

" _We don't have time for this. Tomorrow evening, the Death Eaters will take control of the Ministry. They know about Bill and Fleur's wedding, and they will be here. I need you to come with me, now." Draco said the last part while looking at the ground._

_Hermione seemed confused. "What can we do_

_to prevent this? We have to fight back!"_

" _I'm not telling you because there is anything your precious Order can do to stop this. It's a losing battle for you, Granger. Unless you come with me," Draco finished._

" _Why should I go with you, Malfoy? You're not who I thought you were. You made that perfectly clear!" Hermione was talking too loud, and Draco hushed her as he moved closer to her._

" _Because I don't want you to get hurt," Draco answered honestly._

_Hermione looked into his eyes, trying to see his true motives. "If they're coming, Harry, Ron, and I will need to start our… journey. I'm glad you let me know so I could pack our things," Hermione responded._

_Draco was upset by her avoidance of the topic. "You can't go anywhere with them. Don't you see that it's a death mission? I can keep you safe if you come with me. Please. You have to come with me," Draco begged._

_Hermione stepped in towards Draco, "Why? Why do you care about my safety? I'm muggle-born."_

" _I know you're a fucking mudblood, Granger. Don't think for a second I didn't try to talk myself out of coming here a thousand times. If my family knew, if He knew… I'd be killed," Draco's voice was rising, and their noses were very nearly touching._

_Hermione whispered calmly in response, "So why are you here?"_

" _Because I love you. Because I can't stop thinking of you. Because I need to know you're safe. Because I can protect you. Because I can't have you going off with Scarhead and the Weasel on a death mission. I need you," Malfoy roared, loud enough that Hermione saw Ginny stirring from her bedroom. When she looked back to Draco, he had seared their mouths in an earth-shattering kiss. He snaked his hand underneath her shirt to splay his fingers across the small of her back, and pressed her body into his. When she felt his tongue on her lips, she quickly granted him access to her mouth and moaned as she melted into him._

_Finally, Hermione came to her senses, and pulled back. "Say you'll come," Draco pleaded._

" _You know I can't. I can't leave them, Draco." Malfoy turned away from her in disgust, and Hermione grabbed his arm, attempting to make him look at her again. "And you know I can't trust you. Not after what you've done."_

_Malfoy looked to Hermione, and smiled as he touched the pendant that was still around her neck. Then he apparated without a word._

Hermione awoke from another nightmare, completely disoriented. She once again tried to get her bearings, as she fumbled with the diamond pendant around her neck. " _Where are you?"_ She picked herself up, and then found herself vomiting from the vertigo that followed. Her hands flew to her face as she remembered the knife dragging along her skin. She found a deep gash that was sure to leave a hideous scar. She found tears brimming in her eyes. " _At least you're alive,"_ she thought, trying to cheer herself up. She once again rose to her feet, and started to walk out of the alleyway she was in. She found herself in a farmer's market, and everyone who looked her way seemed to turn up her nose at her appearance. " _Mark of a harlot, indeed,"_ Hermione thought.

When she'd finally made it to the street, she saw a well-dressed Indian man exiting the backseat of a Bentley. "Anthony, I should be back soon. Hopefully I can find a suitable woman for the master before too long," he stated. The man turned towards Hermione, and was instantly drawn to her tragic appearance. "Miss, pardon my asking, but are you alright?" At the stranger's question, Hermione instantly broke down into tears. He caught her in his arms as she began to slump to the ground, and he carried her to the car. "Anthony, take us to the diner up the street, please," he ordered to his driver. Hermione was too spent to protest.

When they got to the diner, Hermione ordered a sandwich and some coffee. The stranger let her eat in peace, though his inquisitive stare let Hermione know the silence would not last for long. After she had cleared her plate, he started to ask questions. "What happened to you, Miss…?"

"Rosier. Hermione Rosier," she answered, still not trusting to use her last name, though she felt she could trust this man. He couldn't have been much older than Hermione, and his face was kind. She quickly relayed the story of the brothel. "Though, how I got to that horrible place is even worse. My husband and I were taken from our home for helping to hide known muggle-born witches and wizards. He was... he did not make it," Hermione finished, casting her eyes downwards in an attempt to stop the tears from falling.

"I am very sorry to hear that, Miss Rosier. The pain you must have endured... If you don't mind my asking, are you a muggle-born witch?" Hermione was nervous, remembering her conversation with Madame Violetta.

"I am, sir," She answered, waiting for his reaction.

"My wife and I are also muggle-born. We currently work in a household for a respectable wizard in Derbyshire. I am his assistant, and my wife is in charge of housekeeping. If you are in need of somewhere to stay, we can surely make room for you in the household."

Hermione weighed the pros and cons of his proposition. She certainly didn't have many options, and she knew that the English countryside would be the last place the snatchers would look for her. "I don't want to be a burden, sir," she answered.

"My name is Rahul, not sir, and you won't be a burden at all. We could use an extra hand on the large estate," Hermione felt relieved, and instantly agreed to join him. It seemed hiding as a maid would be the perfect way to go undetected.

As they got into the car, Rahul got a phone call. While she couldn't hear the speaker on the other end, the loud outbursts implied that he wasn't happy with his assistant. "Sir, I apologize, but I won't be able to find a new woman for you today. Some things came up while I was in town," Rahul explained over the phone, "I will explain when I return. Please, try to stay calm, sir. Yes. Okay, thank you Mister Lugh. We will be home soon." Rahul hung up the phone.

"He didn't seem pleased with my coming," Hermione asked. Who was this man?

"Mister Lugh was counting on my finding a new woman for him today," Rahul explained. "When he meets you, I'm sure he will understand."

"A new woman?" Hermione asked. "Is he unable to find his own girlfriends?'

Rahul sighed, "Miss Rosier, he doesn't prefer for them to be called his girlfriends. He just likes to help women in unfortunate situations. He gives them townhouses in town and makes sure they are well provided for, but none of them ever stay around for long. He has a fixation for perfection, though. That is why I didn't suggest you for the role," Rahul explained. Hermione's hand flew to her face, the wound still burning in a line down her cheek. "No, Miss Rosier, please forgive me. It is not this wound that mars your perfection. The master simply dislikes women with brown hair and light brown eyes, which you have. He has ordered me to never bring the combination to him,"

Hermione found herself instantly unnerved by Rahul's words, but simply chose to keep silent on the matter. "Rahul, do you think you could try to heal my face?"

"Yes, Miss Rosier, but I must warn you. The knife that made this wound was no normal knife. The wound is laced with dark magic, much like the one that caused the scars on your arms," Rahul expounded. "I don't know that I am skilled enough to heal it." Rahul lifted his wand, and tried a few healing charms. None of them seemed to make a difference.

"Do you have a mirror?" Hermione asked. Anthony lowered the mirror in the back seat, and Hermione gasped when she saw the depth of the wound. Hermione asked if she could try the healing spells with Rahul's wand, but unfortunately she found that the wand didn't respond to her in the slightest. She tried Anthony's wand as well, but neither could make a dent in the dark magic. Frustrated, Hermione just settled on cleansing the wound with a cleansing spell. It felt a tiny bit better, so she was temporarily satisfied. She also healed the marks from the shackles on her wrists, and a few of the larger cuts and bruises from the abuse she took in the Chamber.

Once they arrived on the grounds, Hermione was amazed by the vastness of the property. It had to be set on at least 100 acres, and the manor itself was stunning. There was a large courtyard with a lovely fountain, and the whole home looked over a large lake.

Who was this man?

 


	3. She Ran

Rahul escorted Hermione into the home, and went into the sitting room just off the foyer, where a woman was cleaning. "Miss Rosier, please meet my wife, Aditi Ganesh," Rahul introduced.

"Hello, Missus Ganesh," Hermione answered.

"Please, call me Aditi," Aditi requested. "What is your name?"

Hermione could see the kindness in this woman's eyes. She knew instantly that they would have been friends if they met on the street. She was grateful to feel a sense of safety for the first time in many months. When she and Ron had started to protect muggle-borns, the threats started to arrive almost as quickly as the refugees. They spent months renaming muggle-borns and moving them to different areas, keeping a master list in Hermione's vault at Gringotts. The threats turned more violent when a snatcher saw Hermione in Diagon Alley, though Hermione was easily able to overcome his spells with her expertise in magic. She and Ron were planning to move the next day, though they were caught by dinner that evening. They were both knocked out immediately, and woke up beneath Hogwarts in the Chamber of Secrets. It was so cloyingly ironic that the location of their first kiss was also the location of his death…

"Miss? Your name?"

Hermione had been silent for a few minutes, with tears brewing in her eyes. "Hermione, Hermione Rosier."

"I found Miss Rosier at the farmer's market. She has been through quite an ordeal, and is in need of shelter," Rahul explained. "Darling, I have to go speak with Mister Lugh. Would you mind finding a room for her in the servant's quarters? And perhaps some new clothes as well."

Aditi smiled and grabbed Hermione's hand. "Of course! We'll have you set up in no time," she said to Hermione. Hermione and Aditi went to a room in the servant's quarters across the hall from the bathroom. "I hope the room is suitable for you. I know it isn't much, but it's nice, safe living. Mister Lugh is a good man. He may be a bit reclusive and mysterious, but it's better than what we've been used to," Aditi explained. "Alice, Jane, James, and Anthony live down the hall, but you will only share this restroom with Alice. Everyone here is a muggle-born," Hermione was surprised that this man actually had his own form of a muggle-born protection program. She wondered how he was getting away with it.

"Is Mister Lugh a muggle-born?" Hermione asked.

"No, he is a pureblood, and from what I have gathered, he came from a very wealthy, well-known family. He bought the title of Earl of Derbyshire a few years ago, just when the persecution of muggle-born wizards really started to escalate. He saved Rahul and me. I only wish we'd never left India," Aditi explained.

"I am so sorry, Aditi. I don't know how this has all happened," Hermione consoled, realizing that she was certainly not the only person who had suffered at the hands of the snatchers.

Aditi smiled. "Well, at least we have each other to keep strong. Let's get you into some new clothes," Aditi left for a few moments while Hermione observed the room around her. It had a single bed, with a closet, a desk, a small empty bookshelf, and a chest of drawers. Hermione wished she had anything to make the place feel more like home, but she realized she would have to make due. Aditi came back in with a few wrap dresses, which apparently were very popular in India, and Hermione chose a simple black one, instead of the more vibrant color options. Aditi showed her a few ways to wear the straps, and left Hermione to allow her an opportunity to bathe. When Hermione left the bathroom, she saw that Aditi had left her a wand that actually seemed to suit her surprisingly well. Hermione could tell it had a heartstring core, though it was a bit shorter than her own wand. Hermione tried again to heal the wound across her face, which had now become an angry red scab on her face. She realized the wound was much more permanent than she expected, and realized she would probably be left with the scar on her face for the rest of her life.

Aditi came into the room as Hermione was examining the wound in the mirror. "It seems like it is healing properly. We will have to be careful to clean it regularly so it doesn't become infected," Aditi said. Aditi noticed the tears brimming in Hermione's eyes. "You know, sometimes, it is the emotional scars that are more difficult to heal."

She was so right.

_Hermione was laying on the floor at Malfoy Manor, watching Bellatrix call to Voldemort with her dark mark. Draco came to her side while Lucius and Bellatrix were otherwise occupied. "Hermione, are you okay?" Hermione looked up with tears in her eyes. "I tried to prolong it as long as possible. The house-elf you are friends with can get in, Hermione. I saw him in the dungeon just now," Draco whispered. Hermione could only whimper in response, though she wanted to thank Draco for not giving away their identities right away. "Please, read this note. I had planned to send it to you by owl, but I didn't know how to reach you," Draco explained as he slipped something into her pockets. "I still mean every word. Please consider it,"_

" _What are you doing, Draco?" Bellatrix shrieked._

_Draco stood up immediately, with a sad look towards Hermione's tear-streaked face. "Searching her pockets, Aunt. Is it done?" Draco asked nervously._

_Bellatrix only smiled in return, so Hermione knew Voldemort was on his way. She could never forget how purposefully misplaced Draco's curses were during the ensuing battle. She knew without a doubt that he was never aiming to kill her, or her friends._

_Once they had apparated to the shell cottage, Hermione read the note with Fleur sleeping in a chair close by._

_Hermione,_

_You were right about me all along. I am not like them. You have taught me to hope that there is good inside of me. If you can trust me, if you can love me, please meet me at the Hog's Head on April 15th. If you don't come, I will never bother you again. I will know what you have chosen. I love you._

_Draco Malfoy_

_Hermione realized that it was April 14th, and though she knew how much she felt for Draco, she also knew that she wasn't in any sort of position to trust him. She had spent the entire day enduring the Cruciatus curse at the hand of his aunt, and it certainly wasn't him who was bellowing for her safety from the dungeons. No, that was Ron. Ron was safe. She could trust Ron. Ron would never hurt her._

Hermione fiddled with the diamond pendant around her neck as she once again remembered her most painful memory. Draco had risked everything to be with her, and yet she had chosen the safe route. She had refused an opportunity to bring Draco to the light, and in doing so had ensured his own personal darkness. A year later, she had sent an employee on a mission to see what had happened to the Malfoy family. The assistant came back letting her know that his entire house had been burned down by fiendfyre shortly after Voldemort's death. It was expected that all of the family died in the flames, punished by the few living Death Eaters for their cowardice. Not only had Draco died, but he had died hating her for never showing up on April 15th. Died with his final memory of her being with Ron.

Aditi informed Hermione that she would be in charge of the first floor cleaning of the eastern wing. This included a door which was always shut, and Aditi let her know that the locked room would not need to be cleaned. It also included the kitchen and dining room, though it seemed clear only Mister Lugh ever used the dining room. The four house maids, Aditi, Hermione, Jane, and Alice would work together to clean the marble floors and staircase once per week. Aditi explained that Mister Lugh preferred the work to be done by hand, but that magic could be used for hard to reach places. "Why does he prefer the work to be done by hand? Wouldn't he need to employ less people if we just quickly finished with magic?" Hermione asked.

Aditi smiled at Hermione. "I wish I knew the answer to that, Hermione. Rahul seems to think it has something to do with his desire to hide more muggle-borns from the snatchers. You may find that you like doing things by hand, though. For me, at least, it reminds me of my childhood, before I knew about magic," Aditi explained.

Hermione was satisfied by the answer. She enjoyed to cook and clean by hand in the house that she and Ron had purchased after their marriage. She only wondered what kind of pureblood would prefer it that way as well.

Rahul knocked on his employer's door, and was quickly allowed in by Mister Lugh. Upon entrance, Rahul noticed that his employer was much more well-groomed than he had been earlier in the day. "Mister Lugh, you seem to be in higher spirits, sir," Rahul commented.

"Well, Rahul, you would be wrong for thinking so. I sent you with a very simple mission. Booze and a broad. It seems you have failed on both counts," Miser Lugh stated.

Rahul shook his head. "Mister Lugh, you must understand. I met a young woman today in the farmer's market, and she was in a terrible state. She is a muggle-born witch, sir, and was on the run from some snatchers," Rahul explained.

"So where is this woman that has caused me so much disappointment? Why was she not fit to be the woman I asked for?" Mister Lugh asked.

"Sir, she has brown hair and light brown eyes. I know how you despise the combination," Rahul reasoned. "She is also scarred down her cheek, from a recent wound."

"Bring her to me, Rahul. I wish to see the reason for my displeasure," Mister Lugh requested.

Rahul shook his head again. "Sir, I apologize, but she has been through a great ordeal, and is currently in Aditi's care. She is in no condition to…"

Mister Lugh cut Rahul off with a bellowing yell. "I don't pay you to argue with me, Rahul. Bring the fucking girl to me. I will decide who is and isn't worthy to be in my company."

"Yes, yes Mister Lugh." Rahul quickly left the room, realizing that there was no reasoning with his employer when he was in this sort of a mood.

Rahul quickly ran down the stairs and found Hermione and Aditi going over Hermione's duties in the home. Hermione had been able to clean up since their initial meeting, and Rahul could not deny that Hermione was quite pretty, if one was able to look past the vicious mark down her cheek. "Miss Rosier, you must come with me. Mister Lugh would like to meet you immediately," Rahul explained. Aditi gave him a knowing stare, implying that she knew Mister Lugh was in a terrible mood. Rahul quickly spun on his heel, and Hermione followed him apprehensively. She almost had to run to keep up with his long strides. "Hermione, please say nothing unless you are spoken to. Do you understand? Mister Lugh is in a foul mood, and I don't want his angry words to give you the wrong impression."

"What do you mean, Rahul? You said Mister Lugh was a good man! A kind man! And now I am supposed to keep my mouth shut? I'm supposed to be scared of him?" Hermione asked.

Rahul grabbed Hermione by the wrist to help quicken her pace. He didn't want to keep Mister Lugh waiting, as his poor mood would only get worse in their absence. "Forgive me, Hermione. And forgive Mister Lugh, if you can," Rahul reached a staircase and was practically pulling her up the stairs. "He never really shows much emotion, but some of the recent antics of the snatchers seem to have put him over the edge, Hermione."

They slowed down as they reached a large double door, clearly the entrance to Mister Lugh's office. "The snatchers?" Hermione asked, trying to catch her breath. "What involvement does he have with the snatchers?"

Rahul knocked on the door, quite loudly. "I don't know, Hermione. Even if I did…" His voice trailed off, and Rahul didn't finish the sentence. "The Weasley's. They were murdered, probably in a similar fashion to what happened to your husband."

Hermione's heart was beating so fast and hard that she didn't notice the call that instructed Rahul to enter Mister Lugh's office. Mister Lugh had known her and Ron! She surely didn't know him. Rahul pulled on her arm, and she looked up to see that the doors had opened. "Rahul, no! Could you please go in first?" Hermione knew her fear was childish, but she couldn't overcome it. She knew she looked like a little girl to Rahul as well, but she seemed out of options.

Rahul gave a frustrated sigh. "Alright, Hermione."

Rahul couldn't figure out if he had completely lost his mind. Why was he bending over backwards for this woman? He couldn't figure out if it was her odd combination of innocence and cynicism, but he felt an overwhelming urge to protect her, much like he would a younger sister. He also felt like he couldn't even start to understand how deep her pain really went. Something about her made her completely tragic.

He entered the door, and closed it all but a small crack behind him. "Where the hell is she?" Mister Lugh asked.

From out in the hall, Hermione felt ice flowing through her veins. Merlin, that voice! Had she gone completely mad? Rahul mumbled something, and then the dark and angry voice yelled again.

"I am not in the mood to entertain idiocy! Bring her in, Rahul!"

Hermione was shaking now. Why was she being tortured by hearing that voice, the one voice that could break her in an instant? The one voice that she was sure she would never hear again?

She moved a bit to the side to see into the room better, and saw a fire blazing in the corner. It was lighting up the green and silver décor, casting shadows from the well-stocked bookcases, shining through a crystal decanter on the desk, and adding color to the beautiful blonde hair on the man in the chair.

Hermione felt bile begin to rise in her throat. Blood pounded through her veins, and breathing became impossible and she struggled for gasps of air. She looked into the eyes of the man with the blonde hair, and saw the all-too-familiar icy grey orbs piercing into her soul.

She also felt something else join the fear that was brewing inside her. The knowledge that he was alive… that his passion and fire was not gone forever…

Oh god, Draco.

She ran.


	4. Love No One

"I am not in the mood to entertain idiocy! Bring her in, Rahul!" Rahul let a low growl rumble in his stomach. He knew he would only be testing Mister Lugh's patience to indulge Miss Rosier's request for more time, but something made him want to brave Mister Lugh's temper.

"I'm so sorry, Mister Lugh, the girl just wanted me to announce her presence before she entered.

Mister Lugh gave a sarcastic snort.

"This isn't the Ministry’s fucking court. The last time I checked, street whores didn't need formal announcements,"

Rahul stiffened and stopped arguing with his employer. He turned around and walked towards the door, opening it and stepping into the hallway.

"Hermione, you can come… Hermione?" She wasn't there. A cold sweat broke out over Rahul's forehead and he cursed loudly.

"Hermione?" He looked down the hallway.

"Hermione!"

Nothing.

"Miss Rosier?" Rahul almost choked on the words as he felt a hand crush its fingers around his neck. With a violent shove he was thrown to the floor.

"What name did you just say?"

He looked up to see Mister Lugh standing above him, with a hellish look in his eyes.

"Miss, Miss-" Rahul took a breath. "Hermione, Hermione Rosier."

Mister Lugh's brow rose. "Hermione Rosier?"

Before Rahul could confirm the answer, the man was off in a mad dash, probably after the frightened Miss Rosier. Slumping against the wall, Rahul took a swig from the flask he usually kept in his jacket, even though he didn't usually use it.

* * *

Running was one of the stupidest things she could have done. Where exactly did she plan to run to? A forgotten corner of the giant house? The British forests?

" _Great, Hermione. Once again, your judgment is impeccable,"_ her conscience mocked. " _Coward,"_  it taunted, but she still ran, hoping to lose herself in one of the marble corridors of this beautiful estate. A right turn here, a left turn there, a dark hallway, a dusty stairwell. The maze befell her, and Hermione resisted crying. She was twenty three, for Merlin's sake! She knew many girls were wives and mothers at this point. They were stronger than her. " _You were a wife,"_ her conscience reminded her. " _You should have been a mother_." It was completely Hermione's fault that she now had nothing and no one. Poor Ron. He should have been able to have a child. Hermione had failed as a wife in every way possible. At least Ron had gotten to have the illusion for a while.

Draco had been denied even that.

One day, Hell would surely welcome her with open arms.

Weakness would definitely be listed as one of her sins. Fear was eating away at her as she forced her body to run faster, trying to find her absolutely ridiculous means of comfort. Running would get her nowhere, and she knew this, but she wanted to feel like she'd done something. She felt as though she couldn't even control herself. " _Like a child,"_ her conscience mocked again. A cry tore its way up her throat as she crashed into a stone wall. Her breath was heaving from her lungs and her heart felt like it was in an iron vice. Chains wrapped their rugged hold around her wrists.

Angry grey eyes stared down at her.

Walls didn't have eyes.

"Missus Weasley!" an eerily familiar and acidic voice bit out. It was filled with a twisted rage that made her want to puke. No sound had ever raped her soul with such a blend of sarcasm, anguish, and hatred. The iron chains, or really, Draco's hands, hauled Hermione's body up against his much larger one.

"Please tell me you were only running to amuse me." Cynicism, like a snake, crawled from his mouth. Hermione found that her eyes could not move from his lips, now distorted and poisoned with rage.

He gave an ironic laugh. Hermione was sure that something like a laugh had never sounded so horrible.

"Hell, it really is you," he twisted her arm, bringing her even closer to him. "If there really is a god like your muggles think, I will have to thank him for his perverse sense of humor."

Hermione tried to say his name, tried to gasp it out, anything to break through the shell of the madman now holding her, but Hermione found that her voice and wit had completely befallen her.

Draco snarled, but she would never know what insult he was about to hurl at her. His eyes glazed over as they settled on the horror of her cheek.

He threw her arm from him as if touching her was burning him. Hermione stumbled back, rubbing her arm, her eyes never leaving Draco's stunned face. His stare made her remember her scarred flesh, and she tried to turn to hide it from him.

"I will ask only this," his voice was still firm, but much less angry than it had been only moments before. "Did that injury come from Weasley?"

Tears of rage burned in Hermione's eyes, and she refused to turn to look at him. Her heart was still bleeding from the fact that he was even alive. "No," she snapped. Her words were quiet, despite her anger. She didn't want him to hear the quake in her voice.

"Then I don't want to know how it happened."

Hermione's chest started to burn. Was it sorrow? Sorrow that he didn't care enough to know what happened to her? Or was she guilty, guilty because she had driven him to such a state?

His hand grabbed her shoulder and spun her around to face him. His fingers lifted her face to his roughly, and he unabashedly scrutinized her cheek. Later, he knew he would completely collapse. He would be undone, and he would probably die from the terrible coincidence of this madness. Hermione was alive! Alive! She hadn't died at the hands of the snatchers. Anger, however, clouded his elation.

Over the past 6 years, he had devoted all of his energy to destroying the weak, villainous man who had loved Hermione Granger. Draco had known that the only way to survive would be to start again.

And he had, quite successfully.

Draco and his mother had left the Malfoy Manor once they realized Lucius was beyond saving. When Draco heard of the fire at Malfoy Manor, he learned that he was the sole heir to the Malfoy fortune. His mother left to live with her sister, Andromeda, and her new dependent, Teddy. Malfoy had forwarded on half of the fortune to his aunt, mother, and removed cousin.

Buying the title of Earl of Derbyshire had been simple, as was buying and building the estate. Rahul and other muggle-borns had served as fine staff members. He had remained completely unemotional until the night he had thought Hermione was dead. On that terrible night, the man he thought was gone took over with a vengeance, and the stoic Mister Lugh had been possessed by Draco Malfoy. That man was threatening to resurface again.

It took all of his will power to not ask how she got the horrendous scar. He refused to do it, though. He had spent a long time completely erasing Hermione from his mind, and the last thing he needed was a reason to care about her again.

" _Control yourself,"_  he heard himself think. " _She is just a girl. She is nothing, nothing to you. She doesn't love you. You don't love her. Control yourself."_

Hermione watched as Draco closed his eyes, seeming to will himself into a state of calmness. The change was visible. The color returned to his face, and his breathing slowed. His grip finally relaxed, and by the time he spoke to her again, he could have been a distant, yet polite, stranger.

"I am comforted to know you are alive and well, Missus Weasley. I read reports that said otherwise."

Rahul's words echoed in Draco's brain. " _She_ is _also scarred down her cheek, from a recent wound."_  He took a deep breath and looked down into the face of the person that used to be the core of his heart. He pitied her. The wound wasn't so ugly that it would cause people to turn away, but it was certainly enough to damage the confidence of a girl who had never felt beautiful in school.

She was still beautiful.

" _Control!"_  his mind barked.

"I don't know how you met Rahul, but I trust he was a gentleman?"

Hermione nodded slowly. What happened to his anger? His ability to control it was almost scarier than the initial anger.

"I expected so. Good." Draco took a breath. "You will be immediately returned to your hus-husband, who is no doubt very worried."

" _Damn it all to hell. Why would you choke on that fucking word? Was it really so impossible to say husband?"_ Draco berated himself internally.

Hermione's face fell. Draco hadn't realized that-

" _Don't tell him!" a part of her screamed. "The last thing you need is his attempt at pity. That's what you'll get when you tell him Ron died."_

Hermione bit her lip as the more logical side convinced her to tell him why she was there. " _You're as good as dead if he doesn't let you stay,"_

"Draco, Draco I-" but her voice gave out. She couldn't do it. How would she survive the look of pity and hatred that would develop in his eyes once she told him? He already probably pitied her face. " _You are a child. Thanks to your cowardice, you'll die alone."_

"Ron is dead." Hermione bit out before she could stop the words from coming. Hermione heard Draco's quick intake of breath, and flinched as his eyes widened.

"But, my reports on the snatchers, they were wrong. You survived!"

Hermione cut him off. "Then they were only half wrong. Ron was executed in the Chamber of Secrets. I'd tell you how I escaped, but I'm guessing you don't care about that either." She was surprised by the edge in her voice, propelled by his lack of interest in her. Draco was surprised too, but not by her voice. He was surprised that instead of feeling happiness at the death of his rival, he just felt sorrow for Hermione. She was alone. Alone with nothing, and no one. Fear soon joined sorrow.

" _What happened to her?"_

Draco tried his best to show now emotion, but it was more difficult than he had expected. It seemed emotion was the only thing running in his veins.

"I am deeply and sincerely sorry, Missus Weasley. I know what it's like to be alone."

Hermione looked into his eyes, her own filling with tears. Yes, Draco did know what it was like to be alone. She had made sure of that on that Godless day when she never showed up…

Guilt, longing, and what seemed to be regret threatened to consume her.

"You can stay here until tomorrow morning. I will speak with some of the muggle-born households nearby, and try to find someone who can take you in."

Hermione blinked. Was he making her leave?

Draco gritted his teeth, knowing that his own sanity demanded that he send her away. The sooner she was gone, the better. He didn't think he could survive her again.

"Draco, you can't!"

Draco paused mid-sentence, still talking about how he could situate her with a family nearby.

"Draco, Draco please. Let me stay. I can't go to another muggle-born family. There are so few left. They all know me as Hermione Weasley. I probably set most of them up with their homes in my protection program. They wouldn't take me in! And even if they could, there's a good chance they would turn me over to the snatchers! I have hundreds of family names in my account at Gringotts. Do you know what the snatchers would pay for that kind of information?" Hermione laughed a little. "I guess they meant to torture it out of me before they killed me. Murdering Ron was only the beginning." Hermione was amazed that she was able to tell the story without crying, or retching.

Draco's face had turned ashen. He didn't want to hear this. He didn't want to hear how she could have been tortured to death, probably in the same way his aunt tried to torture her. He didn't want to hear that she had to watch her own husband's death.

But she couldn't stay here. Never! Never again. " _You fell victim to her once, and you can't afford to be that weak again."_

"I will set you up somewhere, then. Somewhere far from London. You'll be safe, and I'll provide you with enough money…" he realized that he was gibbering like an idiot.

Hermione's lips turned into a frown. "Away from human contact? Alone? Draco I couldn't! I couldn't live like that, alone with nothing but silence and terrible memories and…" Her voice trailed off, as the horror of what she was saying replayed in his grey eyes. She realized that this was the life she had abandoned him to. He was just stronger than she was, and was able to pull himself out of his own personal hell. "I'm sorry, I didn't-"

"That's not necessary, Missus Weasley." Hermione realized that he hadn't once spoken her name, and she quickly brushed away the disappointment that followed. "You will inform Rahul and the others that your real name is Missus Weasley. You can explain that you were a cousin of the Weasley family. Use whatever excuse you want. Only I don't want to hear Hermione in my presence, do you understand?"

Hermione nodded, completely confused. Draco braced the muscles in his back, trying to block the pain of seeing her before him. Hearing her called by her married name would be easier on his soul. He would always be reminded that she had married his enemy, and that she never loved him. It would be easy to remind himself that he didn't love her.

"Draco, do you hear me?" Hermione had found some of her voice. "That means you will let me stay?"

Her eyes were pleading and fearful. Draco didn't know whether to pity or hate her for that fear. He could feel his veins twisting in knots. She couldn't stay here! Not after all he had done to rebuild his life. Not after all that she had done to shatter it!

But could he really turn her out? Bruised and scarred, both in the flesh and in her soul? Could he really send her to what would eventually become her death, with the snatchers no doubt running rampant in her pursuit?

"You can stay. But you are to remain out of my sight. Do you understand?"

Hermione's initially hopefulness was immediately deflated by his angry words and harsh tone.

"You will answer to Aditi and Rahul." He was literally barking orders at her. "I don't like being disturbed. Is that clear? Only Rahul speaks directly to me. If you have any questions, you can ask him. My study is off-limits at all times. Do you understand me, Missus Weasley?"

Hermione nodded, closing her eyes as waves of pain overcame her.

"Hermione!"

She turned as the sound of Rahul's voice echoed through the hallway. "Hermione where…" He stopped short when he saw Mister Lugh standing there with her. He instantly bowed his head. "Forgive me, Mister Lugh, I didn't mean to interrupt you and Miss Rosier."

"Nothing to forgive, Rahul. And actually, you will address the young lady as Missus Weasley, or separately her given name, if she permits. She is a distant cousin of the family I read about. Obviously, she was a little afraid to reveal her name after hearing her cousins had been murdered."

Hermione was in shock. Draco had a level of composure that was almost too perfect. She simple nodded to Rahul, not trusting her voice.

Draco gave a polite bow to her. "Missus Weasley, if you will excuse me, I have work to do. Rahul, please have Aditi continue her lessons on house work."

With obvious confusion on his face, Rahul gave another bow, and led Hermione in the opposite direction.

* * *

Draco ran his fingers over the scarred and twisted flesh that ravaged his left arm. He had tried to have the dark mark removed, and it had resulted in an angrier scar that had been prone to infection. He thought of the scar on Hermione's face. That awful scar that had raped her gorgeous, virgin skin.

" _She's not a virgin anymore,"_ his mind taunted. " _Neither are you. You both have mastered the art of slaughtering innocence, haven't you?"_ Draco still couldn't figure out why she had given his grandmother's name, or why that damn necklace was still sparkling in between her collar bones. He assumed it was just to torture him.

"Damn it!" With a violent gesture, he yelled and knocked the decanter of brandy off the table. The crystal smashed on the floor with a fury that almost equaled the rage in his eyes. "What the fuck else do you want from me? What else!" Draco shook his fist towards the ceiling. "What haven't you stolen from me? My childhood! My father's love! Everything I ever desired, a normal home, a normal life. You denied my Hermione in the cruelest of ways, and now I can't even forget her. I can't even live out my life in solitude!" He screamed at the God the muggles were so convinced existed.

The sophisticated façade he had invented to deal with Hermione's presence was now completely destroyed. He continued to yell. "I don't love her. I do not love her!" Rage slowly gave way to desperation. "I love no one. And nothing. NOTHING!" It was the last word he spoke before tears, from the darkest grief, denied his voice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all are enjoying the story! Let me know if you like the direction or if you are just over it. Xo.


	5. Know Nothing of Loss

The first few weeks were bearable, during the day.

Nights were a horror. Whenever Hermione closed her eyes, the blackness that overtook her would fill her mind with two images. The first was Ron's murder. Her malicious mind replayed it almost an inhuman amount of times while she slept. Her nightmares were thriving on the sight of his blood and his dying face.

The second image was the night at the Burrow, when she had denied Draco, and the utter look of helplessness and loss that had invaded his eyes.

It was that dream that was always the cruelest. Ron's murder was at least a haze, and she always knew she was dreaming. She would hold her breath, and wait to wake up. The visions of Draco, however, were as real as the breath in her lungs. She could feel the humidity in the night air, she could taste his lips as he kissed her. She would scream out his name, begging him to forgive her, but he could never hear her. Each night it got worse, her screaming got louder, her desperation got stronger…

…until she would wake up in her bed, a mess of tangled hair, sweaty limbs, and stained cheeks.

Nights were hell.

Days were better, but they were far from heaven.

Hermione immersed herself in the work that Aditi assigned her to. Rahul asked for her preference of clothing color, so he could buy a few outfits in town, and she quickly said black. Her mood was dark, so she figured she might as well be wearing dark as well. It was childish, but it gave her a bit of pleasure. " _Pleasure from my grief,"_ she thought. " _I am truly a dark person."_ She did, however, rather like the wrap dresses that Aditi and Rahul had introduced her to.

The other muggle-borns had been kind, but they were distant. Aditi was the only one who spent any real time around her. Hermione realized that the other two woman were wary of the wound on her face. Usually, only dark women could claim such deformities, the kind that could only come from dark magic. " _You are a dark woman,"_ her mind thought. " _Or at least, you're becoming one."_

Even Aditi's stare sometimes lingered on Hermione's wound, which had finally healed into a very large and angry red scar. How could Aditi not stare? The appearance of the streak against her otherwise smooth skin was transfixing. Like waves crashing onto the beach, the smooth lines of her face all suddenly puckered and rose, creating an ugly ridge of twisted flesh. It was odd, if you were to speak kindly. Hermione also guessed that Rahul had confided in his wife about his employer's actions around the new servant. Draco had gone out of his way to avoid her, and Rahul wasn't dumb enough to think this was for no reason. Whenever Aditi and Rahul asked about her past, though, Hermione swore it was nothing exciting.

Days and weeks passed by, and Hermione slowly settled into a routine. Early breakfast, make a menu to be given to the cook, see to the cleaning of whatever rooms Aditi wasn't busy with, lunch, more straightening, dinner, then sleep. The first half of the night was spent to mourning her dead husband, the second dedicated to running from her past with Draco…

…Whom she never saw. He had made good on his promise that he didn't like to be disturbed. Hermione looked forward to the days when she was with the other women, if not just to liven the eerie silence. The foyer, one of the largest rooms in the house, needed to be cleaned, and so Hermione, Aditi, Alice, and Jane had started to clean together.

"Hermione, no, no, yes, that's right. Circular motions." Aditi was directing her as she clumsily tried to clean the large wooden banister without creating more sludge and grime. Hermione was frustrated. The process was so mundane, her parents would have hired a maid to take care of it. And here there was a house full of wizards and witches who could clean the banister in less than a second, and they were stuck demonstrating their muggle cleaning skills. Hermione sighed inwardly from her obvious lack of skill. She hated seeming weak and helpless to the women. She had spent the first 23 years of her life looking strong and intelligent, and she didn't like the stark difference. Weakness had destroyed what little life she had.

Hermione looked up to find Alice staring at her. The young woman quickly looked down, burying her face in the floor she was waxing. Anger that Hermione didn't know she possessed took over her. Was her face really so bad? It was just a scar! A twist of flesh! Did she need to explain to everyone that she wasn't a death eater just because her cheek wasn't perfect? With a hiss she plunged her rag back into the bucket of water, and went back to work on the banister, so roughly that her fingertips burned.

Aditi looked over at Hermione as she gave a snort of frustration, watching as Hermione repeatedly dropped the cloth, sloshing water everywhere.

Hermione picked up her rag for what felt like the hundredth time. Why did she need to wipe in circular motions? Why couldn't she just use her wand? Why did they have to clean like this? Why did the banister need to be cleaned today? Why was Draco so cold? Why was Ron dead? Why did she have the horrible scar? Why did she have to lose everything?

Hermione kicked the bucket of water, sending it hurling down the stairs, water spilling everywhere.

"Why!" Hermione yelled.

Aditi, Jane, and Alice looked up, unmasked horror on their face. The normally reticent Hermione Weasley stood before them, the bottom of her wrap dress soaked in water, her face flushed, and her breathing ragged.

Aditi only shook her head. She knew this moment was coming eventually. No woman could endure the kind of horrors Hermione had so obviously endured without an outlet for her anger eventually. She wanted to reach out to her, but she knew from the wild look in Hermione's eyes, Hermione was far, far away from the foyer.

The silence carried on until it was racked with Hermione's sobs. She sank to the stairs, tears running down her face and catching on her scar. Aditi went towards her, but Hermione cried out in protest.

"No. No! Aditi I'm fine, I'm sorry." Hermione held up her hand, covering her face with the other. "I'm fine. I just… I'll clean it up."

"Aditi! Where is that damn husband of yours? As if the Earl needed more proof of how inadequate his staff was!"

Hermione looked up to find the source of the shrill, loud voice. Her eyes found one of the most beautiful women she had ever seen standing in the center of the foyer. She had long, jet black hair that fell to her waist in gorgeous waves. She had dark eyes that were large and intense, and beautifully red lips. She was tall and slim, and her breasts curved into a perfectly tiny waist, which then tapered into lush curve of hips. A beautiful mint lace cocktail dress complimented her coloring.

"Miss Megaira, we didn't expect to see you today," Aditi answered.

Anger twisted the lovely woman's face with ugliness. "I'm aware of that. I've been ignored for weeks now. I demand to speak to the Earl."

Aditi raised an eyebrow. "Impossible. You know the Earl with speak with none of you unless he wants to. He'll be very upset if he is disturbed."

Hermione watched, transfixed and confused by the obvious offense on Miss Megaira's face.

"How dare you? Don't pretend to claim to know the workings of Mister Lugh's heart." She was gesticulating wildly. "I refuse to suffer another day for him. I will speak to him now."

Aditi opened her mouth to protest, but then stopped. She hated Vivian Megaira with a passion. Mister Lugh's favored mistress had an enormous ego, and lacked any real skills outside of the bedroom. Aditi laughed to herself as she thought of how upset Mister Lugh would be by her impudence.

"Jane, go and find Rahul. Tell him to have the Earl come to the foyer straight away." The color drained from Jane's face.

"Aditi, are you sure that's a good idea?"

"Of course it is," Vivian snapped. "He favors me for a reason." She smiled, and Hermione was shocked by her dazzling teeth. This person was literally physical perfection.

"Aditi," Hermione whispered when Vivian had started busying herself in a mirror. "Who is that?"

Aditi rolled her eyes. "That, is pomposity incarnate. Her name is Vivian Megaira. She is Mister Lugh's favorite mistress."

"His mistress?" Clarity finally rang in Hermione's head as she remembered why Rahul was in the farmer's market. To find a mistress, for his employer. For Draco…

Aditi nodded. "He keeps three or four at a time, and gets bored easily, so they are always being replaced. Women like Vivian like to think they will eventually become his wife, but it is just a delusion."

Hermione felt sick. "But prostitutes?"

Aditi shook her head. "No, Mister Lugh doesn't want prostitutes. Just witches from poor families who don't have an objection to being well-paid-for mistresses. They all get townhouses in the city, and fine gowns, and fine jewels. Vivian is actually a daughter of one of the wealthy merchants who lost a lot when the snatchers found his money."

"So, they become prostitutes," Hermione said with a malice she couldn't help. "I guess it's easier with diamonds around your neck." Hermione fiddled with the diamonds around her own neck.

"They all seem transfixed on discovering what lies beneath Mister Lugh's sleeves. Though, Hermione, I beg you, don't ever mention the fact that he always wears long sleeves. If he were to hear us talking about the sleeves, I don't even want to imagine the consequences. We are forbidden from even acknowledging their existence."

"Well, since we're living in a state of denial, I'll pretend that his porcelain slut isn't still preening in the mirror below us." Hermione could have fainted at the horror that crossed Aditi's face. Why did she say that? She cursed her temper. How was she going to explain this cruelty in her voice?

Draco having a mistress- or several mistresses- was almost as disturbing to Hermione as the fact that it not only upset her, but enraged her.

"Maybe the disfigured little bitch would prefer to talk to my face." Hermione looked up to see an enraged Vivian Megaira looking up at her from the bottom of the stairs. "Jealous, troll? Jealous that the Earl would deny a scarred little servant, but would sleep with a… what did you call me?" An evil smile settled on her lips. "Porcelain slut? How fitting. Your mouth is just as ugly as your face."

Hermione's fingers balled into fists. She steadied her breathing, and controlled her body. She wouldn't lose her temper. She couldn't. If she revealed too much, she would find herself defenseless again.

"You say he denied me?" Hermione allowed her gaze to look at the woman's entire body. "I say he denies you. You are his mistress, and clearly, you've never seen under his sleeves."

Aditi swallowed the lump of dread in her throat. What game was Hermione playing at?

"I have seen beneath it," she lied. Hermione couldn't have hit a better point. Vivian had always been insulted by the Earl's refusal to take off his shirts, especially because the other mistresses had said he had revealed it to them. Of course, Draco (though she wasn't permitted to call him that) always denied that anyone had seen beneath his sleeves.

Hermione walked down three steps. "Really? Then what does his arm look like? Why wear sleeves all the time? Really, you must tell me," Hermione wondered with mock curiosity.

Aditi almost fainted.

Vivian tried to grasp for a response, but her head was muddled by the attack from the strange maid with the ugly scar on her face.

"He wears them because… because he is scarred!"

Hermione felt her entire world fall from beneath her. Did Draco really show this woman what he was scared to even let her see? This woman?

She tried to remain nonchalant.

"It must be hideous, then."

A look of triumph came over Vivian's face. Something she had said had thrown the maid off balance. "On the contrary. It is a simple line from when he was a child. It just reminds him of his mother's cruelty."

A thick silence filled the room, and Aditi's mind began to spin. She had never seen Mister Lugh without his sleeves. Was Vivian telling the truth?

Hermione burst out laughing.

Vivian's cheeks burned with embarrassment. "Don't act like you would know any better. Don't mock me. How dare you imply that I am lying?"

Hermione sobered, her rage returning. "Imply? Oh no, Miss Megaira. I am fully accusing you of lying."

Vivian took a full four steps up the stairs. Aditi backed away instantly, but Hermione stood her ground, feeling a strange duty to protect Draco's dark mark.

"And what would you know, you hideous little maid? Looking at you makes me disgusted. Only whores have marks such as yours." Vivian's voice was cruel, and Hermione's control snapped. Childishness be damned…

"I may be hideous to look at, but you are hideous to the core, Miss Megaira. You barge in here unwelcomed, demanding to be acknowledged as anything more than a whore."

"Hermione, stop this at once!" Aditi's command was more out of fear for Hermione that anything, but Hermione's rage and anguish was spilling forth. Vivian answered back with equal fury.

"Insubordinate little twat. You don't know anything of who I am, or my life, or what I've lost. My father was one of the richest wizards in London, and you treat me like you are worth more. You are worth less than the dirt on your face!" Vivian screeched.

Hermione's voice was possessed by some sick rage, and she yelled. "You want to talk about loss? You are clearly older than me," she spat, purposefully as an insult, "and yet you know nothing of loss. You know nothing of life. You're talking about losing money. I have known more about loss than you are capable of understanding."

Vivian laughed. "You are a great actress, maid."

Hermione's reason fled. Her hatred for the snatchers, her mourning for Ron, her anguish and confusion for Draco were directed here and now.

"Twice in my life I have had love ripped away from me. I will tell you again that you know NOTHING of loss!"

"THAT IS ENOUGH!"

Aditi, Vivian, Alice, and Hermione all sucked in a breath and turned around. On top of the staircase stood Draco, his rage evident with every breath he took.


	6. I Know

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You all have Sirius34 to thank for this chapter! First comment! Please let me know what you think!

Hermione blinked furiously. Draco stood atop the stairs. Seeing him standing there before her, anger brutally etched over his handsome face, had added to her anger and frustration. Seeing that he was there all along, but never caring about her situation was wrenching. She gathered her bravery and dared to look at him. It was the first time she had seen him in weeks, and she was sure that the man she saw couldn't have been the one that had followed her down the hallways. Gone was the drunken, disheveled man, and replacing him was a perfectly composed gentleman. He wore a perfectly fitted grey suit that seemed to enhance the grey in his eyes. His hair was styled marvelously, and if Hermione was not so angry, she might have swooned. His wand hung from his pocket, and one hand hung loosely at his side while the other grabbed the banister.

Draco's eyes coupled instantly with Hermione's. For a second, his anger subsided and his breathing slowed. Every muscle in his body strained in agony at the sight of Hermione, looking dark and tragic in a black dress, with her glorious brown hair in waves around her shoulders, touching the pale skin of the tops of her breasts…

For a moment he pictured the hair spilled over his bed linens, sinfully messy from a different type of exertion, her skin rosy from his touch…

He shook the fantasy away, and reminded himself easily of his hatred for Hermione. She had betrayed him. Left him alone in a limbo between good and evil, left him to die at the hands of the order, or die at the hands of the death eaters. She was all too happy to run off with Weasley.

" _Twice in my life I have had love ripped away from me!"_

He had walked into the foyer just in time to hear those words. Two loves. Her parents, who she had to obliviate, obviously

… and Ron.

The sorrow that he felt at the realization was instantly replaced by self-depreciation. Of course she meant her parents and Ron. Why would he think anything else? She had never loved him. That's why she hadn't come to the Hog's Head.

Hermione tried to read Draco's expression, but his eyes were fathomless. She felt as if she could see straight to his soul, which was frightening because she could see nothing there.

"Vivian."

His tongue rolled over the name, almost hiding his anger with the silkiness of his voice. Hermione never knew that hearing him say another woman's name could make her feel so wildly envious.

Vivian, whose face had been a mask of anger, softened to reveal her beauty. She flashed a sparkling smile, and dipped her head slightly, though Hermione didn't miss the look of terror that flashed through her eyes.

"I hate being disturbed. I hate being disturbed more when it is to deal with two bickering and childish women." He threw the  _childish women_  directly at Hermione, and she hated him for it. She didn't like to be reminded of her weakness.

The fear returned to Vivian's eyes, and she instantly started making whimpering feminine sighs. "Forgive me, Mister Lugh, I just, I haven't seen you for weeks now, and I was starting to miss you terribly. I'm sure I can find a way to make it up to you."

Draco raised an eyebrow.

Hermione blanched.

Vivian smirked. "I'm sure that you and I could…"

"That is enough, Vivian." This time, Draco yelled, and the sound across the marble foyer made Hermione wince. She didn't want to listen to Draco make excuses for his mistress.

Draco nodded sharply. "Vivian, you may go to the study."

For a moment, no one moved.

"I'm pretty sure I meant now, Vivian."

It didn't take Vivian another moment to run past him and scale the stairs, with a smile, though a nervous one, on her lips the entire time. Aditi watched with horrified curiosity as Mister Lugh approached Hermione, her face still watching the floor. She hoped silently that he wouldn't be harsh with the poor girl.

Draco knew he shouldn't move down the stairs, and his conscience called him a fool the entire way. Still, he moved until he reached where Hermione stood. She wouldn't look at him. He took another step closer, and tried to ignore the fact that she still smelled like vanilla. Images of her in a bath, slick with water, and her small hands running a scented soap all over her body filled his mind. For a fraction of a second, he wished it was his hands running all over her body, soothing her muscles after loving her in his bed, in their bed, tasting every inch of her satin skin and then…

_Fuck. Fucking hell._

He almost threw up. For years, he had kept his mind at bay, and successfully had hated Hermione. Hated the woman he had once loved so much. He purged the thoughts from his mind with a thought of Missus Weasley, happy with her husband, never giving a thought to the dark man that she left broken behind her.

He relaxed as the soothing comfort of hatred filled him.

"Missus Weasley. I expect in the future you'll figure out how to behave more appropriately. You are a grown woman, and I won't have you flying off the broom the second something upsets you," he hissed. He was pleased with himself for keeping the interaction short, and turned on his heels to climb back up the stairs.

"Then please,  _your Grace,_  enlighten me. How should I greet your whores?"

Draco froze on the stairs, not sure whether to be furious at her audacity or surprised by her gumption. He took another step up the stairs, hoping she would just let it go.

"Or maybe you like them to be called something else? Tell me, does that vile cockroach spill such venom when she's in your bed?"

Draco turned around, his face flushed with anger, but Hermione wasn't scared. She felt a perverted sense of exhilaration streaming through her. She didn't care what happened to her, and had kept her mouth shut far too long. No, Draco wouldn't escape her anger today.

He essentially flew back down the stairs, meeting her face to face, his eyes burning holes back into his own. If he meant to intimidate her, he was wrong. Hermione stared straight back, never blinking. When he spoke, he had a hard time controlling his voice.

"It's easy to judge me for eating the forbidden fruit. At least I know that I'm hell bound. It's the fruit that seems harmless, that tastes the sweetest, that poisoned me."

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "Why?" She whispered desperately. "Why have you destroyed the person I got to know? Why have you cast him out?"

From a distance, Aditi strained to hear what was happening. Though she was happy Mister Lugh wasn't yelling, she was annoyed that she couldn't hear what was going on.

With a quick hand, Draco pulled Hermione tight against his body. She instantly molded to him, loving the contrast between his hard body and her soft curves. She could feel the muscle that ran beneath his well-groomed exterior. She tried not to shiver as he bent his head to her, lowering it so that his lips touched her ears. Hermione's eyes closed at the sensation.

"Cast him out?" He whispered. "No, hell no, I didn't cast him out. I killed him. He is dead. That man died long ago, suffocated by hate. I would recommend that you forget him, because he no longer exists. I slit his throat with my resolve."

With a quick spin, Draco wrenched himself away from her, before he did something he would regret. Hermione fell to the floor in a sea of tears, sobs wracking her small frame.

* * *

"I was thinking maybe you got lost," Vivian said as Draco entered the room at last.

"Vivian, you may keep the townhouse, and live there as long as you like. And the clothes, the jewels, they are all yours. You will be set up with enough money to live out your days comfortably…"

Draco was cut off. "Why would I need to be set up with enough money? Unless you're replacing me!"

"I'll make sure you're never in need again. Even I know it would be unfair to give you everything and then take it away." His voice was resigned, and he only wanted to placate Vivian. His encounter with Hermione had completely drained him, and he couldn't stop thinking of her vanilla scent.

Vivian stared at him with an open mouth. "But I thought that we were, that we would…"

"That you would be my wife?" Draco laughed a bit. "Vivian please, don't pretend that you loved me for anything but my money, or that I wanted you for anything but your body. I am not the kind of bloke that falls in love and gets married."

With any other man, Vivian might have thrown a fit. But with Draco, she knew it would be futile. They had always been honest with each other, and in her heart of hearts she knew she would never become his wife. Besides, now she was to be provided for for the rest of her life.

"Yes, Draco, I am desperately in love with your money." Draco's face was still stone, but a smile was in his eyes. He liked Vivian's tasteless yet witty humor. She was intelligent, something that he clearly valued in a woman. "Though, I wish you wouldn't lie to me and tell me that you have no heart. It's just all wrapped up in that insipid little servant wench you have, so it must exist."

The smile in Draco's eyes immediately left. "Don't be ridiculous, Vivian. It's not flattering on you."

"Fine. I'll pretend that the entire time we were downstairs, your eyes weren't making love to her face, no matter how scarred it is. Merlin, did you even blink?" Silence ensued, and Draco had to stop himself from pulling out his wand. "Do you have any new jewels for me, Draco? Or is today to be one of complete disappointment?"

* * *

Jane was putting the dishes into the dishwasher. Next to her, Aditi was rinsing plates to be added to the machine. Alice was wiping down the countertops.

"Is it true, Aditi?" Jane asked. "Did Mister Lugh really send Vivian away?"

Aditi looked around in all directions to make sure the three women were alone. "Yes, three days ago, after the incident with Missus Weasley." The "incident" had become almost mythical among the band of muggle-borns. They all were shocked by the audacity of the quiet and reclusive servant girl who insulted the mistress and challenged their employer.

Alice's eyes went wide. "Really?" She laughed a bit. "I was so tired of being bossed around by that woman!"

Aditi nodded and smiled. "Rahul told me about it that evening. Mister Lugh requested that he send her a small fortune so she could live comfortable on her own." Both Alice and Jane flashed looks of disbelief.

"And Vivian went without a fight?" Jane asked.

Aditi laughed. "I'm sure the amount of money she received was enough to help her lick her wounds. Besides, it was obviously coming. Mister Lugh hadn't called on her for weeks!"

Jane nodded her head in agreement. "Ever since Hermione arrived, not a single mistress has been here. I for one have no complaints."

Alice laughed. "How is Hermione?"

Aditi shook her head. "Quiet, as always. Even quieter after the incident. I'm not sure what would have caused her outburst, but I am worried about her wound. It grows angrier every day, no matter how many times we've used a cleansing charm. And she is getting paler as it gets redder."

* * *

Rahul found Hermione in the hallway, doubled over and trying to catch her breath, with a bucket of water abandoned beside her. Her arms were wrapped around herself as she tried to gasp for air.

"Hermione!" Rahul called, but she didn't respond. She was shaking, but from what? Frantically, Rahul hauled Hermione to her feet. As he looked at her face, he instantly knew.

The wound on her face was not the healing gash it had been only a few days ago. It oozed a heavy white puss and seemed to glow with raw blood.

_Infection._

Hermione was shaking because she was racked with fever. Her face was infected dreadfully, and her body was already falling victim to the consequences. Rahul swallowed hard. He had seen many witches and wizards in India cut down by raging, hellish fevers that infections could produce.

How was this girl to survive?

Halfway back to Hermione's bedroom, she fainted into his arms, and he knew instantly that darkness had settled over her.

* * *

"Mister Lugh?"

Draco looked up from his records, surprised to see Rahul in a complete state of dishevelment. His usually-polished assistant had messed hair, an undone vest, and sleeves pushed to his elbows. There was a gloss of sweat dampening his forehead.

_Something was wrong._

He gestured for Rahul to approach him, fear growing with every step Rahul took.

"What is it?" Draco asked.

Rahul let out a long sigh. "Missus Weasley, sir. He wound has become infected, and she has a bad fever."

Draco's face paled considerably. After trying to remove his dark mark, he had to deal with infections to his arm, one that nearly took his life. The fever that accompanied was an unholy demon that ravaged the body and purged it of its life a vigor.

"How bad?" He didn't look at Rahul, he couldn't. The last thing he wanted was for his assistant to see the fear in his eyes.

The Indian shook his head. "I tried every spell I could think to counter infection, and nothing seems to be working on the dark magic. I spent the last twenty minutes trying to cool down her body with damp rags. Aditi is in there now, doing cooling spells, and it doesn't seem to be helping. She is also talking in her sleep, the delusions have started to claim her. The fever had already set in when I found her today."

The quill in Draco's hand snapped, and black ink oozed all over his hand. With a curse, he quickly used his wand to clean up the mess, trying to quickly assess the situation in his mind. He knew Rahul's skills as a healer were far better than his, because his home did not have nearly as many hospitals as Draco had grown with.

He should have known this would happen. He was an idiot to ignore it. If he had only known the nature of the wound… then Draco realized, he had no idea how she had gotten the injury. He let her know, rather loudly, that he didn't want to know. Guilt and shame riddled him. The infection took a long time to set in, and he could have gotten a lot of potions to prevent it.

Draco closed his eyes tightly as Rahul began to describe the pus that poisoned the skin of her face. The flesh was open and raw and seemed to split the areas that had begun to heal. If nothing was done, the wound would soon begin to rot, and once that happened, no potion in the world could save her. Nearly choking on his pain, Draco ordered Rahul to London. There were healers at St. Mungo's that could provide the potion needed to help Hermione, potions that would take weeks to brew, and Merlin knew Hermione didn't have that time. It would be a risky trip, and he wouldn't be able to apparate, lest the snatchers meet him at his destination and take him into captivity for his blood status. Rahul said goodbye, promising that Hermione would be healthy on his return.

Once the door to his study closed, Draco let his face fall into his lap.

* * *

**Her entire body was on fire. That was all she knew. Maybe she died. Maybe this was hell. All that Hermione could see was darkness, and all that she could feel was fire. Her vocal chords hummed as she let out a cry, but she couldn't hear any sound. The heat and the pain were drowning out her senses.**

Aditi flinched at the sound of Hermione's cry. Night had fallen and the only light in the room wbas the light from the end of Aditi's wand, but she could still see a layer of sweat on the poor girl. With a silent "aguamente," Aditi once again tried to cool Hermione's forehead with water. The girl had been writhing in agony for hours, screaming in response to nightmares that dragged her away from sanity.

"Aditi…"

Aditi turned at the sound of the low, gentle voice, surprised to find her employer behind her. He didn't look like the cold, powerful man she was used to seeing. His blond hair hung loosely around his face, and he was dressed in only trousers and a sleeved undershirt. The hard lines of his face seemed softer and more caring… frankly, he looked like a normal man.

"She has been like this for hours, sir." Aditi regarded Hermione with gentleness and worry. It broke her heart to see the girl that had survived so much struck down and lying in such pain.

Draco's throat constricted at the sight of Hermione on the bed. Her hair was a soaking mess of sweat and water, and her limbs were twisted around damp sheets. Her face was twisted and her lips were parted, but Draco knew she was far from conscious.

"Please, Aditi, you may go. I will watch over Hermi-Missus Weasley." Aditi glared at him, wondering whether or not to reprimand him for his lack of manners. She usually wouldn't leave any woman alone with a man outside of her family, particularly this dark and angry man, but something inside her stirred. For the first time, she saw a hint of something in Mister Lugh's eyes that hadn't been there before…

…he cared for this girl.

"Alright," giving Hermione a quick kiss on the forehead, Aditi relinquished her spot next to Hermione's bedside and silently left the room. "But Sir," Draco turned to her, already preparing his wand for a watery spell. "Do take care of her. She's been having terrible nightmares."

A tear ran down Draco's cheek.

"I know."


	7. Absorb Some of Her Pain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shoutout to seti31, Langela137, Aoifeb96 and Sirius34 for possibly being my only readers! Here's a short chapter for you, but a chapter nonetheless.

"I see your face in every single one of my fantasies," he whispered. "I hear your voice in my every nightmare." She couldn't hear him, and it was just as well, because that's the only reason he was speaking. He whispered "aguamente" once again, and wet a rag to run over the burning flesh of her face. A soft moan escaped her lips at the sensation. His eyes fluttered half closed and his pale skin glowed in the light of the candles he had lit in the servant's quarters. He hadn't seen it fit to install lights into the servant's bedrooms, assuming the wand light would suffice, but now he wished he had. "When I dream of happiness, I feel your lips on mine. I feel your body wrapped in my own. I run my fingers through your hair and your voice cries out for me." Desire licked through him under the influence of his own confession. Draco's voice grew thin as he lightly trailed the cloth against Hermione's neck and exposed collarbone. "When I dream of hell," he tried to ignore the rise of her breaths beneath the thin, soaking wet nightgown, "I see you turn from me in revulsion."

He shut his eyes at the thought. He had woken up on a countless number of nights, drenched in sweat, the victim of a terrible dream in which Hermione had returned to him, only to leave in disgust once she saw the remnants of his dark mark again. Draco noticed that she started to shake, and he gently ran his fingers along her arms, willing her to relax, begging her to be all right.

"I hate you with every breath that I take. I hate you beyond reason, hate you with every passion that I possess… I hate you so much that I am dying of love for you."

He ran a hand through his mussed hair, shocked by his own words. Did he really love her? Even after all that had happened, and all that hadn't happened?

Again he wet a cloth, and dragged it across her body, this time letting it graze the top of her breasts. As many nightmares as he had had, he had also been the victim of treacherous fantasies. Vivid dreams choked with carnal lust and his unending passion for her. She would always be in his arms, her body locked with his, crying his name out softly as he loved her. Her voice would always be thick with passion, and her moans those of utter completeness…

Those dreams were worse than the nightmares. They were the harshest of them all. He would wake up, and remember her lips on his, only to be embraced by nothing but cold sheets and harsh reality.

"Hermione…"

It was the first time that he had allowed himself to address her by her name. The pleasure of the two syllables on his lips tore through his body and he instantly felt hatred towards himself for how cold and cruel he had been to her…

No! The cruelness was necessary.

She would never be Hermione Granger to him again. She wouldn't even be Hermione. It was easier to resent her when she was Missus Weasley. When she was his arch-enemy's wife.

His arch-enemy was dead.

Draco immediately crushed the thought. The last thing he would ever be was Weasley's replacement. He would gladly die before letting Hermione use him as a comfort, as a body to implant the ginger head of her departed husband.

Resentment reared its ugly head, and his dragons instantly swirled around like a maelstrom.

She had left him for Weasel-bee.

She had left him to live alone… with only the cruel memory of one kiss to keep him warm.

"No!" Hermione's voice rang through the room, and Draco's eyes instantly flew to her. He was more than a little disturbed to see that she was still sleeping, her body twisting in and out of various positions. He pitied her. The dreams generated by a fever induced sleep were not like regular dreams. They were much more vivid, and much harder to discern for what they really were. They always mixed horror so well with reality that even after the dreamer awoke, fear and desperation seeped through the blood.

"No, Merlin I can't!"

Draco watched over her, knowing that there was nothing he could do. She would be impossible to wake until the nightmare had passed, so deeply was her body meshed with its own unconsciousness.

"I can't breathe, I can't breathe!" Hermione started gasping at the air around her, and Draco's curiosity ran wild. What the hell could she be reliving? He remembered then with a cry of despair.

The snatchers.

She had been quite hurt when she had first arrived. He remembered with a wave of guilt informing her that he had no interest in what had happened to her. At first, he had reasoned with himself that it was simply due to lack of concern, but he now knew himself for the liar that he was. If she had told him what had actually happened to her, he probably would have wrapped her in his arms and kissed all of the pain away. She would have broken his icy demeanor in a second. The thought of Hermione hurt sent daggers through his heart.

"I can't breathe! You're too heavy!"

Draco stiffened.

"I can't do this. You can't do this!"

Hermione started to thrash uncontrollably on the bed, her cries becoming more frantic and desperate. Instinctively, Draco fell to his knees and ran his hands up and down her arms, trying to make her stop, trying anything to stop the sudden terror that had sprung to life within him.

"No, no please! Please it hurts!" She choked out. The scream that followed was blood-chilling, and Draco climbed into the bed beside her, wrapping her body in his arms, his lips softly pressing to her forehead as he rocked her. Tears of rage fell down his face. She was having a nightmare about a rape.

She had been raped.

He held her tighter, hoping to absorb some of her pain. He knew now, knew what he was too scared to ask her. She had been raped by the snatchers. They had killed Ron, and raped his beautiful Hermione, and goodness knows what else.

"Oh Hermione," he whispered, "my darling, beautiful Hermione."

She cried out in her sleep, her body still convulsing rigorously, despite Draco's strong arms around her.

"Help me! Please help me!" Her voice was growing thinner from her screaming, but she still continued, caught in the horrible memory.

"Stop, you're hurting me! Stop! Please, I'm begging you…"

Draco held her tighter. He would kill the men who had done this to-

"Ron! Not like this Ron." She screamed. "It hurts too much, please stop! Ron no!"

Draco shut his eyes against the nausea that rose up in him.

…She wasn't dreaming about the snatchers…

 

 

 

 


	8. You Love Her

A weak sun spilled over the streets of London. Dark shadows stretched down the boulevards and alleys in the early morning light, and for a deceptively peaceful moment, everything looked as it had before all the violence had started. Shop keepers began to open their doors, the smell of rising bread wafted through the air, and beggars crawled out of the darkness.

Rahul rolled his aching shoulders, trying to relieve the stiffness that was the inevitable result of sleeping in a car. Mister Lugh's order had left no room for hesitation. He was to head to London immediately, sent to retrieve a potion from a healer named Augustus Pye. He had never seen the man so frantic. Hermione's illness had snapped something in him, and he had literally morphed into a different man. The frigid aristocrat had melted into a madman. Rahul had seen that sort of insanity before, in India. It was the same dragon that took hold of a husband when his wife was being tortured via the cruciatus curse.

_Like a husband for a wife…_

With an ungentlemanly thud, Rahul smacked right into a woman walking opposite of him along the streets. His thoughts had taken his mind away from the present.

"A thousand pardons, Missus… Miss." Rahul corrected himself when he realized how young she was. Hidden away under her black cloak and black bonnet, she looked much older than her age, which was probably twenty one, maybe even younger.

"No, you're fine, sir." She gave him a sad smile, her red locks framing her lovely face, even if it was exceedingly gaunt. The rest of her was thin as well; her black cloak literally hung off her body. She turned to go, but Rahul instantly shot an arm out, remembering his initial purpose in the city. She turned, surprised, but not offended. "Yes, sir?" She looked up at him, a bit frightened by his disheveled appearance, but put at ease by his find clothes. She didn't know how, given her upbringing, she had always judged people by their clothing, but those warnings flew to the back of her mind.

Rahul reached into his pocket and pulled out a small piece of paper, handing it to the girl. She may have been thin, but her clothes suggested she was more than just a survivor of the terrible snatcher reign. She could probably be of use to him.

"Do you know where in St. Mungo's I could find that particular healer? I had to leave for London immediately, and there was no time to find an office number. Just the name." She took the paper with a hand and read it aloud.

"Augustus Pye." Her face instantly lit up. "Of course! Augustus Pye. He tried to heal my father once before…"

Rahul heard the catch in her voice before it silenced. He could see that this girl was also riddled in terrible memories. She quickly dashed away a tear and looked back up at Rahul, her eyes hopeful. "Yes, sir, I can tell you how to get there. Augustus Pye is a friend, and I would be happy to see him again." She straightened. "That is, of course, if you wouldn't mind me accompanying you to St. Mungo's."

"I would be honored, miss. You would have the thanks of both me and my employer."

She looked at him, childlike curiosity still apparent in her young features. "Employer?"

Rahul nodded. "Sorry, I usually have better manners. I am Rahul Ganesh. I am the assistant of the Earl of Derbyshire, Draco Lugh."

She gave him a smile. "I'm happy to meet you." He offered his arm as they began their walk. "I am Ginny Potter."

* * *

Draco sat, watching her, his eyes red rimmed from a lack of sleep.

He hadn't shut them all night. Once the candle in the room had burned down, he had held Hermione in the darkness of the room, his lips never leaving her soft skin as he'd buried his face in her neck, willing her to be okay. Her fever had raged, and eventually had completely overcome her body, so that even dreaming was too much to handle. Her shaking and sobbing had stopped, and she had collapsed, a dead, dreamless, sleeping weight in his arms.

He thanked Merlin for the small mercies.

He watched her now as the sunlight played on her face. He brushed a loose curl back from her forehead, closing his eyes against the wave of longing that played over him. Hermione's face was still burning up, but at least she seemed peaceful.

She may have been free of her nightmare, but he certainly was not.

His first reaction had been a crazy desire to kill Ron. Then he had remembered that Weasel-bee was already dead. His second reaction had been to wish Ron an eternity in hell and to personally thank the snatchers for his death.

But something wasn't right.

For the rest of the night, he had sat on the bed with Hermione, trying to remember what he could about Ron Weasley.  _Decent-looking,_ he thought bitterly.  _Funny, personable…_  Draco's animosity grew. Ron was everything he wasn't.  _Brave._  Draco had to admit, his nemesis had been brave, always with Hermione and Harry on their death-riddled missions. Stupid, but brave.  _Kind…_  he rarely heard Ron speak down to anyone, except perhaps himself and his siblings, or Crabbe and Goyle. His kindness made him weak, but he was a good person nonetheless.

The admonition made him sick.

Hermione's cries rang through his memory. She had been screaming, sobbing that she was in pain, begging Ron not to hurt her…

Nothing made any sense, but again, nothing ever had.

With a quiet curse, he got up and left the room, calling for Aditi. He didn't want to be there when Hermione woke up, if she woke up. The last thing that he needed her to know was that he had spent the night with her in his arms.

The last thing she needed to know is that he would gladly do it again.

* * *

"What brings you to London, Mister Ganesh?"

Rahul wondered internally what sort of relation she had with the famous Harry Potter, but he figured that people hardly owned up to their relations in a time like this. He wished he had lived in London and had seen the history books detailing Mr. Potter's life.

Ginny Potter smiled. It felt as if it had been an eternity since she had had a pleasant conversation with… anyone. After the snatchers started to take over, her entire family had to go into hiding in Albania. She and Harry had been on an extended world tour, wanting to get away from everything that they had suffered the years during Voldemort's return. When they went to contact her family, they learned of their recluse in Albania, and tried to find Hermione and Ron. Ginny's heart had been shattered when she heard of her dear brother and sister-in-law's death. She and Harry had come to London to try to piece back what was left of Hogwarts, in the hope that a school could be started again once all of the nonsense with the snatchers was handled.

Rahul peered down at the girl next to him. She looked at him with innocent fascination, and he mused on the fact that she probably thought he had an exotic life. "An errand for my employer. One of our servants is sick, and needs a very specific potion. We don't have time to brew it on our own."

Ginny nodded.

"I just hope that she is not beyond our help," Rahul reasoned. He looked to Ginny again, and saw tears in her eyes. "Miss, are you okay?"

"I'm sorry, Rahul. I'm just in mourning for my brother, and his poor wife."

Rahul felt immediate compassion for the girl as she burst into tears. "Your brother and sister-in-law recently passed?"

"Yes," Ginny said. "They were murdered by those snatcher bastards!" She was practically yelling.

Rahul threw a hand over his mouth. "Please, Miss Potter, be careful when you speak. We don't know who could be listening.

Ginny's eyes widened, as if she suddenly realized where she was, and who could hear her. She lowered her voice to a whisper. "I'm sorry, the nature of their deaths was just terrible. They were dragged from their home, never to be seen again. And all because they were known to help muggle-borns."

Rahul's interest flared. This girl had known the Weasley's? Should he ask her about Hermione? Surely, if she had known Ron and Hermione Weasley, she would have known their distant cousin by the same name.

"Do you have a cousin named Hermione?" He asked the question, trying not to reveal any intimate knowledge. He didn't want to endanger Hermione.

Ginny shook her head. "No, sorry, you must be mistaken. Hermione was my brother's wife, and like a sister to me." Tears once again started down Ginny's face as Rahul tried to absorb what he had just learned. It was impossible. Hermione was just not a common enough name.

"Yes, yes," he answered. "How could I have forgotten Ron and Hermione Weasley? I think I saw pictures of her in the Prophet once. Blonde hair and green eyes?"

Ginny wrinkled her nose. "I'm sorry, but I think you have the wrong memory. Hermione had light brown eyes, and her hair was brown as well."

They walked towards the hospital for another five minutes, nothing punctuating the silence except for Ginny's crying. Rahul's heart truly broke for the girl. She had obviously loved her brother and sister-in-law very much. His own mind was racing. The husband of Ron had been Hermione. Hermione Weasley. There were no distant cousins.

"Miss Potter," he asked, pretending to be curious. "Do you know a Miss Rosier?" He figured the initial name she had given was something she had made up, but he planned to at least try and see.

"No, well, yes, I know of her. Druella Rosier was the grandmother of someone I went to school with. Draco Malfoy."

And then he knew.

* * *

"You stayed all night with her?"

It was more of a statement than a question. Draco looked up from his place on the large chaise. It was early afternoon, and he had still been only able to take a small nap. Aditi stood in the doorway, looking quite tired herself.

"How is she?" Draco was surprised at the weakness of his own voice.

Aditi sighed. "She's… she is very ill, Mister Lugh. Until Rahul gets back, really, the best thing we can do is keep her cool and let her sleep." She saw the terror pass through his eyes, even if it only lasted for a fraction of a second. "But, Hermione is young, and she can handle this."

It wasn't the best answer that he could have received, but Draco accepted it as the best news possible nonetheless.

"Does she know that I stayed with her?"

Aditi looked queerly at him. Her employer looked a fright, and the clothes he had slept in twisted around his frame, his blonde hair tousled, with only his sleeves still on straight. His eyes had dark black circles around them.

"No, Sir." She answered swiftly. "She's barely conscious. I don't think she remembers her own name."

"Good."

Aditi walked further into the room, trying her best to quell the fear rising in her.

But she had to know.

"Mister Lugh… I've come to care about this woman over the past few weeks. She's very sweet,"  _Keep going, Aditi!_ She screamed to herself.  _Don't be afraid. Hermione wasn't!_  With a nervous hiccough, she continued. "I can see it in her eyes, Mister Lugh. Something terrible happened to her, absolutely dreadful, and I think, well what I mean to say is, I think you know what, exactly. I don't think for a moment she is who she says she is."

Draco looked up. Aditi now stood before him, her small hands ringing her apron with her apprehension. He gave a sarcastic smile.

"Why the bloody hell would you believe I know anything about Hermi- Missus Weasley?"

Aditi shut her eyes.

"Because you love her, Sir."


	9. I Have Come So Far

Draco laughed. It was a harsh, sickening, twisted sound. Draco threw his head back and unleashed a noise that made Aditi's blood freeze. "Love her. You think that I love her!"

Aditi shut her eyes.

"Why the hell would I ever do something so stupid?"

Draco leapt off the chaise, his disheveled appearance only adding to the danger that he exuded. He walked over to the small Indian woman, slowly walking around her, stalking her, allowing her to feel his presence…

She was shaking.

"You must care for Missus Weasley a great deal to risk my anger for her."

A single tear rolled down Aditi's cheek. What had she done? Her need to prod had done nothing but back him into a corner that he was now fighting to get out of.

"Do you fear me, Aditi?" His voice was a low, dangerous, whisper as he continued to walk a slow circle around her trembling body.

She kept her eyes shut and didn't answer. The look of his anger terrified her.

Draco stopped and stared at her, absorbing the pallor that had crept onto her normally dark skin. He didn't need to hear the words. She was absolutely horrified by him.

He was nothing but a dark wizard to her.

With an agonized cry, his fist smashed a crystal vase. Shards of razor sharp glass embedded themselves into his fingers as the piece went flying, before breaking more completely on the floor. "Why!" He screamed. A lamp was the next item to fall victim to his rage. "Have I ever hurt you, Aditi? Have I ever hurt you or your husband? Or anyone in this household for that matter? Have I ever done anything but allow you to live your lives, away from the snatchers?" he kicked the screen in front of the fireplace.

Aditi realized, of course, that he was right.

"You fear me for this," He raged, pointing to his left arm.

Again, he was right. Aditi cringed as he let out another horrifying laugh.

"And now you wish to know if I love Hermione? Why, Aditi? Does that scare you? That even with a hidden secret on my arm there could be someone whose heart beats desperate for that which every other guy on the planet takes for granted? You are afraid of me for my sleeves, and yet you should be thanking me for wearing them!"

She slowly opened her eyes.

"I am not a monster," Draco cried. "No, not anymore. Did you know, Aditi, that once, they called me a dark wizard?"

She had no reaction, which for some reason unsettled Draco completely. His perfectly cultivated life was now spinning out of control, and he couldn't fix it if she didn't do anything.

"Who are you?" Aditi's whisper was almost inaudible, but Draco missed nothing. Instead of responding to her question, his large hand enveloped her wrist, instantly pulling her from the room. She literally had to run to keep up with his long strides as she was dragged down a corridor and down a small set of stairs. With a whisper of "alohamora", Draco opened the door to the previously locked room. He looked all around him, to see the artifacts from his old life as a Malfoy. He saw the dangerous objects his father had harboured for the Dark Lord in his secret room. There was a book that seared the eyes of the reader in the corner, another book that the reader couldn't stop reading or dispose of, a number of evil-looking masks, human remains, a hangman's rope, and a music box that put the listener into an enchanted sleep. He didn't quite know how to destroy these dark artifacts, though he had destroyed almost half of the items his father owned. He knew he would need an equally powerful witch or wizard to help him, but he wasn't willing to put any of his staff in danger in his quest to destroy the items.

Aditi stopped breathing as she looked at the horrors around her. She thought these dark artifacts were the stuff of legends, she never imagined she had been sharing a home with them for so long. Draco turned around, his hair now wilder than before, and sweat beading on his neck and forehead. Aditi knew that this room was who he was. A dark person. An evil person.

She feared him more than ever.

And he knew it. Draco looked into her eyes and his face fell. He knew it.

"Everyone that I have ever known has hated me, Aditi. Everyone!" Pain suddenly replaced the rage that had formerly filled his voice. "But they had a reason to! The people of my past had reasons to fear me, but not you. Not any of you. Not here. Not when I have come so far."

Aditi sat stone still.

With an exasperated breath, Draco let his hands fall to his sides. "Apparently, I haven't changed very much at all." The pain was gone. The fleeting glimpse that Aditi had seen of the man within her employer… the caring, hurting soul… the one that had stayed by Hermione's bedside… instantly vanished.

"Do you want a real reason to fear me, Aditi? An actual reason?"

With a violent motion, he ripped the sleeve on his left arm.

* * *

Rahul clutched a small brown parcel containing a potion tucked safely under his arm. He stood in the entranceway of St. Mungo's. Augustus Pye seemed smart enough to stay out of the snatcher's way. He seemed to be quite well-off, even though the snatchers had attacked so many of the richer families, trying to obtain funds for their cause. Ginny Potter was still saying her goodbyes.

"It was so good to see you again, Augustus." The girl's loveliness increased under the influence of the genuine smile that she was giving the old man. He returned it in kind, giving her a small hug.

"It was nice to see you too, dear. Your face is a flash of light in these dark times." Both grew quiet for a moment, and Rahul suddenly felt like an outsider, intruding on mutual grief. "How is your mother?"

Ginny shook her head. "Mum is overcome with grief at the news of Ron and Hermione. She hardly ever leaves the hiding place in Albania. She blames herself, no matter what I tell her."

"But how could she blame herself? She had no involvement with the snatchers," Augustus Pye reasoned.

"Yes, but she feels like she hurried Hermione into the marriage with my brother before she was ready," Ginny explained.

"But surely, their marriage would have been fine after the sessions with me." Augustus Pye said.

Ginny looked down, saying nothing. It didn't matter now. Hermione was dead. Ron was dead.

Rahul's attention was running at full speed. His conscience was at war with his reason. He knew deep down in his soul that Ginny Potter's Hermione and his Hermione were the same person. With a few words, he could easily erase this grieving girl's pain… but they could just as easily endanger Hermione. He held his tongue, hoping to catch more information beside the few bizarre statements that Ginny and the healer had let loose. Unfortunately, the two finished their cryptic conversation about Hermione and turned to him.

"Mister Ganesh." The healer's voice was deep, but kind. "Let me express my best wishes for your employer's servant. From what you have told me, the girl seems strong enough to overcome the infection, now that she has the potion. I wish I knew who had recommended me, though. I hate to say I have no idea who the Earl of Derbyshire is."

Rahul smiled politely. "I don't know how he came upon your name, but I know that Mister Lugh thought you were the only person we could get help from."

Pye nodded gracefully at the comment and instructed Rahul again on how to administer the potion. He had given her a topical salve as well to help the harshness of the wound to fade. With a polite goodbye, Rahul and Ginny stepped into the sunlight.

"Thank you, Miss Potter, for your assistance today." Ginny gave him a smile. "Can I make sure you get somewhere safely in return?"

He knew that he did want to see her safely delivered home, but his real desire was a dangerous curiosity.

Ginny nodded. "I was going to pick up a few books from Fluorish and Blotts so that my husband and I could begin work on a new school. It is only a few blocks from here."

They began to walk, and Rahul tried to make conversation. "I am sorry to hear that your mother has not been well since the death of your family members. But I have to say, I don't know why she thinks it's her fault!"

Rahul was glad to see that the young girl was fond of gossip. She started to speak immediately. "Hermione was never ready to marry my brother. She loved him, but the same as she loved my husband. The same as a brother."

"Surely, she wouldn't have agreed to marry someone that she felt no passion for," Rahul commented, still trying to figure out his employer's tie to this relationship.

"Well, yes, and no. She had found passion once before, in the form of a man who turned out to be a death eater. He loved Hermione a lot, and the two of them shared a few great moments, but at the end of the day, he let the mark on his arm define him. He was part of the group that killed Dumbledore," Ginny explained.

Rahul definitely knew who Dumbledore was. Aside from Voldemort and Harry Potter, he was probably one of the more recognizable wizards in the world, no matter where Rahul was from. "These death eaters have marks on their arms, you say?"

Ginny smiled sadly, forgetting how little this strange man knew of the wizarding world in London. "Yes, Voldemort gave his most valued followers a method to communicate with him, by means of a dark mark on their arms. Draco always wore sleeves to try to hide his," Ginny finished.

* * *

Hermione was dreaming again. That same awful dream that she kept reliving had once again crawled into her subconscious.

_She was once again in the shell cottage, reading through the letter Draco had written her. Should she go? " **No!"** Hermione was sure. She loved Draco, but she couldn't go. " **No, Merlin I can't!"**  She couldn't trust Draco farther than she could throw him. It was Ron who was screaming for her safety in Malfoy Manor. Draco only watched. Draco didn't know what he wanted from her. The flashback changed, and she wasn't lying in a bed in the shell cottage, but in a bed with her husband. " **I can't breathe, I can't breathe!"**  But Ron, in his passion, didn't hear her. Hermione found no other option but to enjoy the carnal joys of marriage, actually shuddering in the pleasure that her body was experiencing. She looked up into his face, but instead of his blue eyes, she saw icy grey ones._

" _Oh, Draco," she moaned. Ron stiffened, instantly withdrawing from her and standing up._

" ** _I can't do this. You can't do this!"_** _Ron said, shaking his head sadly. "You're still in love with Malfoy, 'mione."_

" ** _No, no please! Please it hurts!"_** _She called after him, begging him not to leave her. Ron was at her side, telling her how much he loved her, begging her to let him. She was crying too, saying that she did love him, that she had loved him since they were kids. Hermione's head started pounding, the room started spinning, and she let out a horrible scream…_

… _And then she was sitting in a bedroom, though it wasn't her own. A well-dressed man sat next to her._

" _How are you feeling today, Missus Weasley?"_

_She ignored him, rocking back and forth on the bed._

_The man continued speaking, obviously used to being ignored by her. He reached out a hand to touch her arm._

_She screamed as he touched her. " **Help me! Please help me!"**_

" _Missus Weasley, we're trying to do our best to help you here. Your husband would be mad if we didn't do our best to help you."_

_She turned to face him, feeling the weakness that was maiming her body. "When can I go home?" She asked quietly._

" _Soon, dear."_

_And then, she was back in the Battle of Hogwarts, watching Malfoy stare in horror as she ran away with Ron's hand in hers. " **Stop, you're hurting me! Stop! Please, I'm beginning you!"**_

" _Hermione, we have to go, and fast! I don't want to be around when Malfoy starts to follow us!"_

" ** _Ron! Not like this Ron."_** _She screamed. " **It hurts too much, please stop! Ron no!"** She yelled, horrified by the look on Malfoy's face as they ran away. But no one paid attention. She was too much of a coward to admit what she felt, to admit how much she loved him._

Hermione awoke from the dream shaking violently, wailing for Aditi, and from the pain that consumed her.


End file.
